Lómring
by lindir's gaze
Summary: Holly thought she felt the stinging cold of a snowdrift pass under her fingertips. Her eyes fluttered open, and she furrowed her brow, frightened that someone had been watching her. There was no one else in the room, of course. But her sudden, irrational fear was a painful reminder that things weren't over—not by a long shot. [Part Two of the Iron and Ice Series]
1. And Back Again

**PART I: HEAL**

" _What is sorrow?_

 _To long for the past."_

— _Vikram Chandra;_ _Red Earth and Pouring Rain_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: And Back Again**

 _I believe I'm lucid now so I might as well put my thoughts on paper while I can. I have to leave Dale. Staying will only make things worse for the both of us, as I'm sure you already know. I don't think I have time to elaborate on that. So I will conclude this note with an apology for leaving. And I want you to forget about what happened, or at least ignore it. I won't come back. Goodbye. I'm sorry._

 _Holly_

The crumpled note had been in her pocket for two years now. She'd forgotten to give it to Bilbo—or perhaps she hadn't wanted to. Her memories surrounding the battle tended to blur, so it was hard to sort through what had happened, and what she had dreamed, and what she had hallucinated.

Holly kept her head down, trying to stay on the edge of the road. She'd come back to find a steady stream of travelers—men heading for Dale and dwarves heading for Erebor. Perhaps they sought to help rebuild the cities, though it was more likely they were after the piles of gold in the mountain.

Holly hadn't meant to come back. She'd wanted to stay out in the Wilds. Yet the road stretched out before her feet, and already she felt the urge to make her way up the hills to where Dale stood.

She _felt_. That was a change, if nothing else.

Perhaps it was just the infectious whispers of excitement running through the crowd. They all seemed so hopeful, even if their hopes were focused on precious metals.

Someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Holly spun and took several steps back. An elderly woman looked down at her. As soon as she caught sight of Holly's face, her friendly smile faltered. It had been quite a while since Holly had last seen her reflection, but she had no doubt that there were shadows ringing her eyes, and she could feel the smudges of dirt painted on her too-prominent cheekbones. Hardly characteristics one would expect on the face of a child, for which the old woman had probably mistaken her.

"Are you lost, dear? Where are your parents?"

 _So predictable._ "My parents are dead. And I'm not a child." Holly almost said _I'm not lost_ , but that was irrelevant.

People usually left after she said that, but the old woman kept pace with her. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Are you alone?"

Holly felt the muscles in her face tighten. She knew the woman was showing concern, but the words sounded like a threat. "I'm meeting with a few friends in Dale. They should be expecting me later today. You know how impatient dwarves can get," she replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. The statement seemed sufficient enough to warn away any potential threats, even if it wasn't true.

"I'm not sure anyone truly knows anything about dwarves," the woman said, returning the smile. "Well, if you ever need anything, I'll be staying with a friend on Glen Street, near the smithy."

Holly paused. "Which house?"

"Number three, I believe."

That was the house she and Bilbo had stayed in after the battle. He must have moved somewhere else after she'd left.

Holly wrapped her arms around herself, although the air was warm and heavy as it tended to be in late May. He might have gone back to the Shire, for all she knew.

If he was really gone, what would she do then? Following him meant attempting a six month journey that she knew she wouldn't be able to complete. She couldn't stay here alone. Perhaps she could look for the Company, but why would they want to see her again after what she had done? There was nothing left for her here.

Finding Bilbo was her only option. Something like fear spiked in her heart.

"Do you think I could come with you, back to your house?" Holly asked. "I just want to get my bearings, and then I'll be on my way."

"Of course, dear," the old woman said. It wasn't as though she would refuse. In her eyes, Holly was little more than a lost little girl.

* * *

The house was the same—cream walls and a reddish roof dulled by age. For a moment, Holly saw snow on the roof, and she shivered.

Hilda, the old woman, knocked on the door and took a step back, her shoulders growing a bit stiff.

Holly knew why she was tense, why she would feel nervous about reuniting with an old friend. If leaving was hard, coming back was doubly so.

Holly cast her gaze towards another building farther down the street. The last time she had been in Dale, that building had been short one wall. But she could see that the city was no longer a ruin—Dale had recovered from Smaug's wrath and the battle, and was on its way to thriving once more. Holly felt the dull bite of exhaustion clamp down on her shoulders.

The door opened. Another elderly woman stood in the doorway. Holly turned in time to see her face lift into a smile as she spread her arms. "Hilda!"

Holly turned away again as the two women embraced. She was intruding on what should have been a private moment. All the same, she felt her heart lift a little at the sight.

"Brenda, this is Holly," Hilda said once they had broken apart. "She needs a place to stay for a while."

"Just to get my bearings," Holly said. "I've had a long journey."

Brenda smiled. "Then come inside, both of you."

Holly followed them in, not bothering to take her cloak off. As she stepped into the room, she felt a familiar drag on her limbs, as though something were weighing her down. Her memories of living there were quite literally dark—she remembered shadows and hushed, desperate voices and lacking the will to move.

But now the house was warm and a light breeze drifted through the open window, making the air seem less stagnant.

Holly blinked, realizing the two women were sitting at the table and staring at her. "Sorry. Thinking." She sat down next to Hilda, one hand fiddling with the thin fabric of her dress sleeve.

Brenda gave a smile that brimmed with pity. "You must have been on the road for quite a while. Where are you from?"

Holly only needed to ask a simple question to get the information she wanted. But she found herself saying instead, "I came from the south, near Gondor. I was traveling with a trading caravan, but they were all killed in an orc attack. I came to deliver the bad news to the dwarves we were trading with." Not true, but it followed her story about meeting a group of dwarves in the city. It would also explain her bedraggled appearance.

Brenda gasped while Hilda shook her head and said, "It's dangerous out there in the wilds."

"It's dangerous everywhere," Holly replied before she could stop herself. She forced a smile. "But Erebor and Dale are at peace for now."

The pity in their eyes did not disappear. Holly waited for the familiar roar of indignance, the resentment that came from being looked down upon, but she felt nothing. Her thoughts had, predictably, become less aggressive since she'd severed her mind from that of an egotistical dragon.

Holly shifted her gaze to the walls out of habit. "This is a lovely house. How long have you been here? Since Laketown was destroyed?"

 _There was smoke and fire and the stench of burning flesh, and a black arrow flying through the air, straight towards—_

A phantom pain twinged at the back of her throat and Holly swallowed hard, pulling herself back to the present.

Brenda shook her head. "A couple lived here before I did. Both very short, the neighbors told me." She looked down at her, and Holly could pinpoint the exact moment when she realized. "You're looking for him, aren't you?"

The words wouldn't come, so Holly nodded.

"I heard that he went to the mountain," Brenda said.

Holly took a moment to thank Eru that Smaug's fire had failed to burn away the people of Laketown's tendency to gossip. She stood up. "Then I should go."

"You're leaving so soon?" Brenda asked. Holly could tell that wasn't the first question that had crossed her mind.

Holly nodded again. She'd essentially been caught in a lie, but she didn't care. "I need to see him."

Hilda gave her a sympathetic smile that was tinged with melancholy. "Go, then. And take care of yourself."

She planned on doing the former, at the very least. "Thank you for your hospitality." Holly allowed herself a small smile. She'd only known the two women for a few minutes, but seeing them sitting side by side—she knew they were at peace.

The Lonely Mountain stood tall next to Dale. Perhaps she would find her peace there.

* * *

Holly didn't stop to rest during her journey to Erebor. It was mid-afternoon by the time she made it to the front gate. It was no longer a pile of rubble, but a large set of wooden doors flanked by two new statues. It was almost as if Smaug had never broken through in the first place.

The pair of guards flanking the doors stared at her as she passed. Holly pulled her cloak closer to her body. If she ran into one of the dwarves from the Company, she didn't know what she would do. They were all angry with her, most likely.

Holly felt the phantom sting of white-hot gold against her skin as she passed through the entrance hall. The floor was just stone now. She paused in the middle of the vast hall. More guards stood at intervals along the columned walls—rows and rows of strangers.

The residential district was just past the market. Holly started walking, wishing she didn't remember that. She wished she didn't remember where the treasure hall was and how the gold glinted against the dark green stone and what it looked like to see her friends dead on the cold floor.

Holly crossed her arms, prickles of discomfort crawling down her arms as the crowd in the market swallowed her up. At the very least, the people, the smell, and the noise helped drown out the sound of dragon scales scraping against stone and the stench of blood and ice.

Holly snapped back to the present when someone knocked into her shoulder, forcing her to stumble back into someone else. She exchanged brief apologies with the dwarf, forcing herself to relax. There was no reason to panic.

"Holly?"

Now she had a reason. She stiffened under the pressure on her arm and turned around.

As Holly faced him, Bofur's eyes widened in shock and recognition. Then his face morphed into a strange blank expression.

 _Run._

Holly almost did. But she needed information. She needed to know where Bilbo was. She needed to know if the others were all right. She needed to know if it was too late to apologize.

 _First things first._ "Where is Bilbo? I need to… Do you know where he is?"

"Where have you been?" Bofur asked, ignoring her question.

"Where is he?" Holly tried to keep her voice from trembling. She needed to focus on that. "Please just tell me." The crowd was closing in, making it hard to think.

Bofur shook his head. "You left for two years without a word to anyone. I'm not telling you anything until you explain yourself.

"All right. All right. But can we—" Holly swiveled her head, looking for an exit. She needed to get out of the market, before it overwhelmed her.

He let out a long sigh. "This way." He gestured for her to follow him though the market.

Holly tried to pretend that this—she and Bofur walking through the crowd, walls towering on either side—did not remind her of the night that they went looking for kingsfoil. Holly tried to pretend that she could not see and smell smoke pouring from the windows carved into the stone.

She pulled in a breath that seemed to slip from her lungs like water from cupped hands. It would be all right, once she saw Bilbo again. She could make things right. And she would stop seeing fire and snow and blood.

"I had to leave," Holly said, looking over at Bofur. She'd grown a few inches in the past two years—they were almost at eye level. "I was hurting everyone. I could see that. I had to stop it."

Bofur stayed silent for so long that she wondered whether he was going to answer. Finally, he said, "We could have helped, you know."

"I wouldn't have let you." She had shut them all out—Bilbo, Dori, Nori. She had been so cruel. Facing them after what she had done had terrified her. It still did. So she'd locked the door and stayed trapped in the dark room, in the depths of her own mind.

A light pressure on her arm caused her to stop walking. Holly forced herself to focus.

"We're here," Bofur said, searching her face with his eyebrows drawn together.

Holly stared at the door. The house was built directly into the stone, as were the others. Small bunches of purple flowers bloomed in one of the windows. She tried to swallow the dryness in her throat.

"And one more thing," Bofur said as she started for the door. "Bilbo—he's tried to move on. He really has. So just keep that in mind."

"Oh. Thank you." Holly wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, but it seemed appropriate enough.

He waved goodbye and left her at the door.

A thrill of nerves tickled her spine as she faced the door. It was long past time to fix what she had broken. Holly raised her right hand and knocked.

 **I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! This is the sequel to Feangren, so if you haven't read that, I would recommend checking it out first so you don't get confused.**

 **Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. It helps me out a lot.**


	2. The Desolation of Smaug

**Chapter 2: The Desolation of Smaug**

Holly had everything she was going to say planned out. She had predicted Bilbo's responses and ordered them by likelihood. She would use that to convince him to forgive her. Everything would be all right.

But as the door opened, her mental dialogue disappeared like smoke in the wind. _Bilbo_. It hit her, like a blow to the stomach, how much she had missed him. For a moment, it seemed that everything _would_ be all right.

Holly looked into his eyes and, as she saw the realization there, it occurred to her that she may have made a terrible mistake. It was like the time she'd knocked over a vase, and hadn't been quick enough to catch it. The fall had been so slow, like the descent of the moon, and she had been able to see each individual crack form as it shattered.

Five long, slow heartbeats of silence passed. "Well," Holly said because she didn't know what else to do. "Long story short, I'm not dead."

There was no mocking, hissing voice in her mind to point out her own tactlessness, but the look on Bilbo's face was enough.

More silence. "So, um, sorry. Should I have given you a bit of warning before I showed up in person? Or—sorry." Holly clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking.

Bilbo drew in a shaky breath. "Two years." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Two. Years. I thought—I thought you were dead. How could you let me think...after you tried to…"

Holly could feel her nails biting into her skin. She had never seen Bilbo cry, but it seemed as though he might now. She _hated_ herself, hated the fact that she had done this to him.

"How could you do that?" His voice finally broke and Holly felt something sharp and painful lodge itself in her chest.

She dragged in a deep breath. Perhaps she could still fix this if she laid out the facts, if she helped him understand why she had disappeared.

"I had to leave. I was hurting you. I wouldn't let you help me, and…" Eru, he had tried so hard to help her. "I wouldn't blame you if you hated me. I would have hated me." Holly pressed on, feeling a bit less numb. "What I was doing wasn't working, so—so I decided to seek out a different solution." Namely dying, but she didn't need to say that. "And I'm better now." It was probably too soon to try for a smile, so she fell silent, hands still clasped behind her back.

"You have no idea, do you?" Bilbo's words were frosty at the edges, with the barest heat of some greater anger lying below the surface. She had never seen him truly angry either, Holly realized. "You left."

"Yes, we established that." Holly didn't understand what she was missing. More silence. Clearly there was some gap in the understanding between them. "I _needed_ to leave."

Bilbo stared at her, eyes burning with anger and hurt. "And did it ever occur to you, for one second, that I _needed_ you?"

She felt as if she'd been slapped, and found herself slowly shaking her head. "No. You couldn't have needed me. I-I was—"

He couldn't have needed her any more than he needed to have his own limbs cut off. The Holly he had formed an attachment to, had drawn comfort from, was no more. She'd come back from the dead as an empty shell, something broken and useless. Why had she come back at all?

There was nothing left for her here. She should have stayed dead.

 _Her friends were all dead. Damon had killed them all because she'd been too slow. There was blood all over the floor and on her hands and in her hair—_

"—can't help you," Bilbo was saying. "I'm sorry."

Holly stepped back, still trying to catch her breath, and the door swung shut.

* * *

Bilbo drew in a shuddering breath and backed away from the door. He raised both hands to rub at his eyes, trying not to cry.

The look in her eyes haunted him. Holly hadn't changed at all.

 _You couldn't have needed me._

After she'd said that, the same look in her eyes had risen up like a fog, the empty gaze that meant she had retreated into her mind, into whatever memories plagued her waking hours.

It hurt him more than he could describe to see her like that. And he was furious with her for pretending that none of it was real, that leaving him alone had somehow made things better. Things would never go back to the way they were—not after this.

Bilbo drew in another shaking breath and sat down. He needed to calm down. A whispering suggestion came from the hissing voice he couldn't stop listening to. _Put the ring on—just for a moment. No one will notice._

WIth a brief glance at the door, Bilbo slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers sliding across the familiar smooth gold.

Just for a moment. No one would notice.

* * *

 _The cold wind bit at her exposed face and hands. Ravenhill loomed in the distance. The snow was freezing. A gust of it knocked her off balance into the wall—_

— _Damon held her against the cold stone, forcing dark magic into her body. Wave after wave of agony rolled through her. She couldn't stand it, the cold, the pain threatening to drown her. Holly struggled, each movement causing the dagger in her hand to tear further into flesh—_

Holly gasped, darkness and stale air overwhelming her senses as she jolted back into the present. She was in Erebor, not Ravenhill. Her legs gave out and she slumped to the floor, back still pressed against the wall.

The hallway was empty and unlit. Holly had no idea where she was. She remembered wandering off after leaving Bilbo's house, and then...she hadn't bothered to keep track of where she was going. This part of Erebor was unfamiliar.

Holly buried her face in her hands. Her breathing still refused to slow to a normal rate. Where would she go, now? There was no reason to find the others, if Bilbo had reacted to her that way. There was nothing left to do, except…

She wouldn't do it here. She would leave first. Holly pushed herself to her feet and surveyed the area. Both ends of the hallway were identical, as far as she could tell. It was too dark to make out any further detail.

She turned right and began walking. Her footsteps echoed eerily in the dusty silence. Holly shivered, feeling hollow. She'd spent months alone in the wild. Her memories of her friends, of what had happened before, had become blurry. The lands south of the Long Lake were full of flat plains, bisected by the valley of the River Running. Living there had been maddeningly lonely. Yet she felt more alone now than she had then.

The corridor opened up into a large, torch lit cavern. Holly gazed around the circular room, taking in the stone walkway that spiraled up toward the ceiling, which was obscured in the darkness.

Words and numbers were carved into the walls. Holly ran one hand across the Khuzdul letters and the four-digit numbers—dates. She was standing in a tomb.

A faint scratching reached her ears, and she looked up again. The sound was muffled, and far above. Holly walked to the center of the room, squinting up into the darkness. There were torches spread at intervals along the walkway, but she still couldn't identify the source of the noise.

A _thump_ sounded, hollow like wood against stone. It came again, and a chorus of them rang out from above.

Clearly something wasn't right. The wisest choice would be to leave the room. But Holly crept up the walkway, staying in the shadows near the wall. She wished she still had a knife.

By the time she reached the fourth level, the thumping, accompanied by the splintering of breaking stone, resounded from every part of the room. It was coming from the walls, Holly realized with a shiver. She took a step back. There were cracks forming in the stone.

Further up, Holly could see a figure moving down the walkway, towards her. A dwarf, judging by the height and stature.

Small bits of stone clattered to the floor at her feet. Holly backed away from the figure. She needed to leave.

She spun around as the wall behind her burst open, sending clouds of dust into the room. Holly scrambled back, heart pounding—

— _the bridge crumbled under her feet and sent her crashing down into the chasm below—_

—someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. Holly wrenched her arm away with a snarl. She froze, nausea rolling through her stomach as the torchlight flickered over the figure's face.

Thorin's reaction was the same as all the others. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in recognition.

 _Your words are poison, snake._

Holly took another step back. Her hands were shaking. A strange clicking sounded behind her, and she turned in time to see another dwarf emerge from the dust.

No, not a dwarf—a corpse. There was nothing left of the body but bone and scraps of hair. That, and the rusted broad sword clutched in its bony fingers. More skeletons appeared from the shadows.

Holly struggled to draw in breath as snow swept across the walkway. Her hands were bleeding again. She could hear the crackle of bone behind her as well. They were trapped.

She tried to slow her breathing to a normal rate. If she froze up now she would die.

 _Focus. Focus._ Holly held out one hand, fingertips directed at the advancing undead. She took a deep breath, letting the dust and the air settle her nerves, if only for a moment. She wasn't helpless anymore.

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven_." The incantation flowed steadily from her lips as the air around her crackled with magic. White-hot lightning rushed forth and exploded upon impact with the skeletons.

Holly blinked against the bright lines branded in her vision, swaying a little. She wasn't strong enough to cast spells like that on a regular basis.

"Go. Run!" Thorin's voice behind her startled Holly out of her daze. She stepped away before he could touch her again and sprinted for the opening she had created.

Her footsteps kicked up bits of ash dusting the floor—right. That had likely been Thorin's ancestors that she'd just incinerated. She could add that to the list of things she'd destroyed in the past hour.

They ran for the exit, the footsteps of the undead echoing behind them. Holly's vision swam as more nausea passed through her. Only powerful dark magic could have reanimated the dead, most likely from a powerful mage.

 _Damon is dead,_ she reminded herself. She had no logical reason to be afraid. But he might have done something before he died. She wouldn't put it past him.

They slowed to a halt after a few minutes, and Thorin turned to her, his gaze guarded and a bit accusatory. "How did you do that?"

Holly backed out of his reach, breathing hard. "While I was gone, I learned how to—" She grimaced, realizing how that sounded. As though she'd abandoned her friends and disappeared for two years to learn how to use magic.

"I—" It wasn't as though she had any reason to explain herself to him. It wouldn't matter, anyway. "It's irrelevant."

Thorin furrowed his brow, but before he could speak the footsteps of the undead grew in volume and they were forced to run again.

Holly could feel her legs burning and her vision blurred a little. She ignored it and pressed herself to run faster. She didn't know where they were going, but since Thorin was leading the way she could only assume they were headed to a safer location.

The hallway swirled like milk in black coffee as another wave of dizziness threw off her center of balance. Holly winced as her knees hit the floor. Thorin reached out to help her up but she pushed his hand away. "Don't touch me."

 _There was blood in a watery stripe across the back of her hand, leaking onto the snow that bit into her palms_ —

Holly pushed herself to her feet. There was a light at the end of the hallway and she focused on that as she ran.

They passed through the doorway and Thorin slammed the door behind them. Without looking back, Holly began walking away from him, down another hallway.

"What are you doing?"

Holly could hear him following her, and tried to shake the feeling that she was still being chased. "Where does this hallway lead?"

"What were you doing in the tombs?"

"I was trying to leave." A likely story, seeing as the tombs were fairly deep within the mountain. Perhaps he thought he was responsible for what had happened with the undead. The bitter taste of old guilt swelled within her, along with another wave of dizziness. "I wasn't trying to—"

But before she could finish, the hallway filled with golden light and opened up into a familiar chamber.

The sea of treasure swirled before her eyes, and Holly felt herself falling again.

 **Well, Holly didn't quite get the welcome she expected (or hoped for). And Bilbo obviously isn't going to** f **orgive** **her soon after everything that happened.**

 **Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. It helps me out a lot.**


	3. For the Sake of Erebor

**Chapter 3: Symptoms**

Holly woke up to a parched mouth and a near-blinding headache. She was lying on worn sheets in a dim room. A whirl of panic forced her to sit up and take in her surroundings. No, she wasn't in Dale. The walls were made of stone and the room was windowless.

A sharp jolt of pain caused her to bring her hand to her head. There was a tender spot on the back of her head—had she fallen?

Memories of gold and bleached bone fell into place like stones and she winced again as her head gave another twinge. Holly took a deep breath to ease the pain in her skull. She shouldn't have attempted such a challenging spell, especially in such a panicked state.

The door on the other side of the room opened, and Holly wrestled the sheets off the lower half of her body so she would be able to run. She groaned, partially because of her headache and also because she recognized the dwarf entering the room.

"You look half-dead, lass," Oin said, stopping next to a small table next to her cot and pouring water into a mug.

"Is that your professional medical opinion?" Holly asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed while trying not to jostle her head too much.

Oin handed her the mug and she drank without hesitation, realizing how thirsty she was. Once she was done the silence crept back over the room. Holly felt her skin prickle. He was angry with her. They all were.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Holly pretended to think. "Hmmm. What's today's date?"

Oin raised his eyebrows. "Are you joking?" He didn't seem amused.

"Yes. Because it's completely ridiculous that anyone would keep track of the specifics of their sleep schedule."

"Most people don't have to," the healter replied with a pointed look.

Holly shrugged and made to stand up. Oin stepped back to give her room.

She cast him a wary look. "You're not going to try and stop me?"

He shrugged and went to rifle through one of the cabinets nearby. "You can walk around if you like, but you need to stay here."

"Why?"

"Balin wants to speak with you. About what happened earlier this morning."

How long had she been unconscious? And how many of the others knew that she was back?

Holly sat back down and let her hands fall into her lap.

"When was the last time you ate?"

She looked up at the new inquiry.

"I don't know. And you don't have to care." She glanced at the door. There was nothing keeping her from leaving right now. Oin probably wouldn't really stop her from leaving. And if he did... The image of splintering, charred bone appeared again. She could tear anyone apart without even having to touch them. Even before, she'd done it with a knife. Holly clenched her fists to stop the bleeding in her hand.

"I'm a healer, lass. And you're clearly sick—"

"It doesn't matter if I'm sick. It's not going to matter." She pushed herself to her feet and made for the door. She needed to get out before—

Holly leapt back to avoid ramming into the door as it swung open. "Excuse me," she said to the doorframe but Dwalin did not step aside. _All right. That's three out of thirteen so far._

Dwalin didn't even bother with introductions. "Can you walk?"

"Yes." Eru, did she really look that bad? "But whatever you need me for, I won't be of much use. Please let me pass." She still couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Behind her, Oin said something in Khuzdul, to which Dwalin replied in a sharp tone that made Holly take a small step back. The healer responded in a sterner tone and Dwalin sighed.

"It won't take long. Come." He began walking away. Holly sent a glance back at Oin, gained nothing from it, and turned back to the empty doorway.

If she ran she could make it out. The whole kingdom was a maze, and she could probably lose any pursuers without having to go through a crowd.

Or she could grasp at another chance to be useful again, to be near the people that she still cared about.

 _Damn it._ She didn't know if she could make them like her again. How had it happened the first time?

She hadn't even been trying back then. But now she was desperate, and she had to follow him.

* * *

If Erebor was a maze, then its palace was a labyrinth. She'd had to stay close to Dwalin to keep from getting lost. Holly supposed it was a defense mechanism, in the event of an intrusion.

She started to follow Dwalin into one of the rooms that was supposedly for meetings and conferences—and stopped dead. The tension in the room was so palpable it felt as though she'd walked into a brick wall.

Bilbo was there, along with Thorin, Balin, and a red-haired dwarf she didn't recognize. They all looked up as she entered. Her eyes locked onto the far wall, finding its blank surface suddenly fascinating.

Balin got to his feet and made his way over to her. Holly watched as Dwalin crossed the room and began a quiet conversation with the other three. She turned back to Balin and took a deep breath. She would need to remain composed.

"How are you doing, lass?" Balin asked.

"I'm—" She had never known how to respond to that question. Social conduct warranted a lie in most cases. Perhaps that would be her best option, for now. "I'm all right. But that's not why you called me here. What do you need?"

Balin sighed. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened earlier today. "

"In the tombs?" She sent a sharp glance towards Thorin. They had ended up in the treasury, right before she'd blacked out. She turned back to Balin. "You think he's sick again."

"He claimed he saw walking corpses," Balin said. "We had reason to suspect that he wasn't in his right mind."

"Well, did you do the obvious thing and check the tombs?" Holly asked.

"We did investigate. But none of us were there to see it. We still need someone to corroborate."

"I'm fairly sure you can put two and two together from—" Holly sighed. Right. She wasn't supposed to say things like that. "Sorry. I can confirm that the dead did break out of their tombs and attempt to attack us. I incinerated a few with, um, magic. That's irrelevant. We escaped and ended up in the treasury. I don't remember anything after that."

"All right. Thank you."

Holly clasped her hands together, wondering if her use had expired. "What are you going to do now?"

"We'll decide that as a group," was the only answer she received. Balin left her to join the other inhabitants of the room. Holly paused a moment to ponder the uncertainty of the word 'we', then made to follow him. "Holly can confirm that there were undead in the tombs earlier today," Balin said, taking a seat next to the red-headed dwarf.

"So you believe me now?" Thorin asked, a slight sharpness in his tone.

"We had plenty of reason not to," Dwalin shot back.

"I don't see how these undead buggers have anything to do with my cousin's sanity," said the unfamiliar dwarf. "There's evidence enough that it happened."

"There must be a problem with the mountain itself. Not Thorin," Bilbo said. Every dwarf in the room looked vaguely irked at this. They had, after all, spent over half a year attempting to reclaim the kingdom.

"We can't assume that until we know more about what happened," Balin said.

"There is nothing wrong with my kingdom," Thorin said, the sharpness in his tone twisting a little. "We're being sabotaged from the inside."

Holly watched him assess everyone in the room and felt her stomach drop. He was sick again. He had to be, if he suspected the people he trusted the most. She saw Balin and Dwalin exchange a charged look, and the tension in the room began to close in.

"I'll launch an investigation, then," the other dwarf said. "We'll find whoever is doing this."

Thorin's eyes continued to search their faces. When his eyes lingered on her face, Holly decided she should have left when she had the chance.

"You were there," Thorin said, his voice little more than a growl of thunder. "You were the only other person there. I watched you use magic." He rose to his feet, beginning to walk toward her.

"I won't deny that. I did use magic. But I would never—" Holly paused, glancing behind him as the others stood up as well. "I know you have every reason to distrust me. But I wouldn't do something like that. I wouldn't hurt…" Well, she couldn't complete that sentence and still claim she was telling the truth.

Bilbo appeared at Thorin's side, grabbing his arm and forcing him to tear his gaze away from Holly. "Stop it. Stop it right now." He locked eyes with Thorin, his hands shaking. "You need to leave this mountain. You can't see it, but it's making you _sick_." He rounded with flashing eyes on the rest of the group as his voice rose. "That gold is cursed, and you're all too blind to see it!" He turned back to Thorin. "That's why you're acting this way now. You were down in that room for whatever reason, even though you've been avoiding it for years, and it changed you. Before we can solve anything, we have to get you out of here." Bilbo straightened, the volume of his last sentence lowering in desperation.

They stared at each other as a dusty silence fell upon the room. "All right," Thorin said after a long pause.

 _Just like that?_ Holly studied his face, desperate to decipher some hidden meaning in his words, but there was nothing. There was no deception—only a genuine belief in Bilbo's words. This was the second time Thorin's feelings for Bilbo had saved her life.

"We leave for Dale tonight," Thorin said.

He gave her one last warning look, and Holly stepped to the side as Thorin marched out of the room. Bilbo followed him, keeping his eyes fixed forward. Holly watched him go, wondering what else she had missed since she'd been gone.

The remaining dwarves began talking in hushed tones, possibly forgetting that she was still standing there.

"He cannot leave," Dwalin was saying. "His people need him. He's sick, yes, but there's no reason why we can't resolve that from within the kingdom."

"Erebor itself may be the problem, as Bilbo claims," Balin said. "Dain and I can lead until we can find a solution."

"I'm with your brother on this one," the other dwarf, Dain, said to Dwalin. "We can handle things here. You should focus on putting a team together to go find a cure—"

"And if there is no cure?" Dwalin shot back.

Holly stepped forward. "I think—" She stopped and raised her voice to a normal volume. "I think I may be able to help with that." She straightened her shoulders as the three turned to look at her. "I know of a, uh, relic of sorts that may be able to cure him."

Dwalin glared. "Since when do you know about magic and relics?"

"I learned quite a few things while I was gone. Are you willing to accept my help or not?"

"We will discuss that later," Balin said. "For now, you should get some rest."

Holly knew she was being dismissed. She gave a short nod and left the room. The relic she had mentioned was nothing more than a rumor. It was quite possible it didn't even exist. But if that was the case, it would take weeks to confirm that, possibly months, since its supposed resting place was miles away from Erebor. All she knew for know was that they needed her help again. That was good enough for now.

Holly was halfway down the hallway when she paused and turned around. Dain was walking toward her. She lifted her chin as he approached.

He stopped a few feet from her, staring with bright blue eyes that bore a striking resemblance to Thorin's.

"I've heard about you." Dain crossed his arms. "You're the woman that disappeared two years ago."

Holly was bewildered at first. The others had talked about her? "I am. Do you need something?"

"No one wants to talk about why you left. But I can see that my cousin doesn't trust you."

Holly felt her lips raise in a sneer. "You don't know a damn thing about me," she said. "Clearly you don't know the full story of what happened before I left. But I don't see how that's any of your concern."

Dain stepped closer, his eyes turning cold. "You're hiding something. And I don't trust a woman with secrets. You try something with my cousin again, and you'll have me to answer to."

Holly glared and took a deep breath.

"Like I said, you shouldn't meddle in affairs that don't concern you. And if you even think about touching me, I'll kill you."

* * *

Thorin could feel his hands shaking as he walked. He had no particular destination in mind—he only knew that it was absolutely necessary that ke keep walking.

No. He knew exactly where he was headed—a place that he had desperately avoided (in his waking hours, when he could). But he needed to go back, just so he could—

"Thorin. Thorin, where are you going?"

He turned as Bilbo placed a hand on his arm. He could already see disappointment in his eyes.

"Please don't do this," Bilbo said. "I know you are stronger than that, Thorin. You've broken out of it once before, and you can do it again."

Thorin clenched his jaw. "I can't keep doing that. I-I need to be rid of this for good. I cannot help my people if I'm warring with my own mind."

"Then we'll find a permanent solution. Whatever it takes. There are other wizards, and I'm sure other people that could help. Just, until then…" Bilbo's hand came back up to rest on his arm. "Try to—to keep keep your wits about you." He gave a small smile. "For the sake of Erebor."

"For the sake of Erebor," Thorin repeated. That was true enough. He would do anything for his home. But he would also do anything for the hobbit that had become his confidant, his clarity, his…

There was no time for that. "I'm going to gather a group of people I can trust. This needs to be kept quiet."

All he could focus on right now was getting out of the mountain, before he did something he would regret.

* * *

Holly found herself back in the infirmary. She wasn't sure where to go otherwise, and it would be easier for Balin to find her again. Oin let her in without comment.

"Why aren't you angry with me?" she asked.

"Who says I'm not?" he replied, busying himself with a bundle of herbs.

"Well, don't bother hiding it. I don't deserve it." Holly crossed her arms, not feeling quite comfortable enough to sit down somewhere.

"You'd rather I shouted at you?" Oin scoffed and sat in one of the chairs by the door, gesturing for her to sit too. "Tell me what your symptoms are."

"What?"

"Your symptoms. I'm the one with the poor hearing, not you. Now sit down and tell me what's bothering you. Call it what you want, but you're hardly in good health."

Well, she couldn't refute that. Holly took a seat. Symptoms.

"The skin on my knees gets a bit dry sometimes."

Oin nodded. "That's normal. Go on."

She sighed. The healer was especially patient, and stubborn as any of his kin. She wouldn't be able to bore him with this one. If he wanted to see what went on in her head, she would show him.

Holly took a deep breath, feeling a chill creep into her chest. It was overwhelming just to think about. "I get nightmares, almost every night. The nights I don't have them, I don't sleep. Sometimes I see things that aren't there. I get scared of mundane objects and situations. And I can't stop thinking about—" Another deep breath.

"What do you dream about?" Oin prompted when she did not continue.

Holly pressed her lips together. She had to stop. She couldn't tell him what had happened, because that would open a new line of inquiries that she couldn't answer without revealing her connection to Damon, and the dragon, and everything she had done wrong. How she had murdered someone.

"Did someone hurt you?" Oin asked.

Holly looked up, her heart beat starting to pound. How could he have known that? What if he already knew what had happened to her? If the whole Company knew—

"What you're describing sounds like soldier's sickness. It's often found in dwarves who have seen battle. But for females the cause is often rape or abuse."

"Oh. No. No, he never—I mean, I've never had…" Holly trailed off and bit down on her tongue. She'd already said too much.

Thankfully, Oin did not pry into the identity of the 'he' she had mentioned. "And where is this person that hurt you?"

"Dead."

 _It doesn't matter anymore. It isn't relevant. I fixed it. It's over_. Holly twisted her lips in frustration. She couldn't say any of those things, because none of them were true. No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, the truth was that none of it had gone away. It was still all stuck in her head.

"How did he hurt you, then?" Oin asked. He sounded remarkably patient.

Holly rubbed the palm of her left hand with her right. The thin scar running down the middle of her palm had lost its redness, though she still couldn't move her two middle fingers. Looking at it made her feel cold and nauseous.

She could feel the healer's pity. Holly lowered her hand and turned away, a bitter taste coming to her mouth. She didn't deserve that. She barely knew him, had barely spoken him during the quest, besides when they had stayed in Bard's house to heal Kili. And that was before she had abandoned everyone and they had moved on without her.

"Don't. Don't help me." She stood up.

"Lass, wait—"

"I'm going to try and get some rest." He didn't deserve to get tangled up in the mess that was her own mind. It was like a poison, and she couldn't let it spread to anyone else.

She would only accept help from someone who owed it to her. And the number of people on that list was dwindling rapidly to zero. If there was even the slightest chance she could change that, she would take it.

 **If the angst here is getting a bit much for you, please try and hold** **out** **for a few more chapters. Things will get (partially) better soon, I promise!**

 **Poor Thorin is relapsing... He honestly deserves a break, but then this fic wouldn't have a plot ;) Speaking of plot, the gang will be leaving Erebor soon, and then we get into the real adventure.**

 **Thanks so much for all the feedback and support for these chapters. Please feel free to leave a comment about this chapter letting me know what you think. It helps me out a lot.**


	4. We

**Chapter 4: We**

Holly woke up with her heart in her throat, limbs buzzing with adrenaline from a nightmare that she'd already forgotten. Oin was nowhere to be seen. She grabbed her cloak from the foot of the bed and helped herself to more water. That counted as being healthy, didn't it?

The room was so silent that she wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming. But she hadn't had a realistic nightmare like that since she'd killed the man who had caused them. Now they came to her in blurry shapes and indistinguishable voices that were just as terrifying.

She covered her face with her hands. She still wasn't sure what time it was.

The murmur of voices on the other side of the door caught her attention. Holly moved next to the doorframe, straining her ears to hear what was being said.

"You can't send her out there in the state she's in now. The poor girl is suffering from some sort of soldier's sickness," she heard Oin say. "Any more stress could make her behavior unpredictable. She should stay here until she's processed whatever happened to her."

"We still need her help." That was Balin's voice. "She may know how to solve a serious issue. Trust me, I wouldn't press this if it wasn't important."

"Neither would I," Oin said. "She needs to stay here."

"That's not your decision to make," Holly said as she opened the door. Even after all that had happened, she was still fairly skilled at timing dramatic entrances. She turned to Balin. "I'm ready."

Oin sighed. "Lass, if you heard anything I just said, you know y—"

"I do know. Thank you for your hospitality and—and compassion. And such. But I'm afraid I have to see this through." Holly stepped away, not sure what else she could say to him.

"Then don't do anything stupid," the healer replied, then walked back into the infirmary and shut the door. Holly told herself not to feel affronted at the gruff goodbye. It was more than she deserved, really.

She turned back to Balin, and he gestured for her to follow him.

"Everyone is leaving in pairs, so as to not attract suspicion," Balin explained as they began walking.

"And you got stuck with me," Holly said, slipping her cloak on. "Did you have to draw straws?"

"No, we didn't."

"So you're just not as angry with me as everyone else." She meant it as a question. She was genuinely curious as to how he felt about her disappearance.

"Well, 'everyone else' reacted in different ways when you left. But they were all affected." Balin gave her a pointed look that had a bit more of an edge to it than she was used to seeing on the aged dwarf.

"How is everyone?"

"They're all doing well, mostly. Bofur married last winter."

Holly nodded. "I saw him earlier today." She hoped they were all happy, that they had been able to move on without her. Though she still wasn't sure if that last part was what she really wanted.

* * *

It was nearly pitch black outside, and the roads were almost empty. It must have been some time past midnight when they reached Dale. They were to meet the others at an inn on the south side of the city.

Bilbo was waiting for them near the door, and gestured for them to come inside. Holly and Balin followed him up the stairs to one of the rooms.

It was most of the group from before—Bilbo, Thorin, Dwalin, and…

Holly felt something hard and cold lodge itself in her stomach. His back was turned to her, but she recognized his unique hairstyle immediately.

Nori. She couldn't even remember the last thing she had said to him, only that it had been far too cruel and the product of a dragon's twisted resentment. She fought to keep her eyes dry and focused her gaze on the floor.

Thorin, Dwalin and Nori were seated at a table on one side of the room, and Bilbo was standing at Thorin's shoulder. As Holly went to stand on the other side of the table, she did the math in her head. About seventy percent of the people in the room were extremely angry at her—eighty three percent if she counted herself. What stellar odds.

Just as the deafening silence in the room was about to swell to a crescendo, Thorin lifted his head and made eye contact with her. "Balin said you had a solution in mind. Care to share it with us?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw Nori spin around to face her. "Oh. Um." She could feel his stare boring into her as she pinched the fabric of her cloak between two fingers. "Right. I came into contact with many magical artifacts while I was, um, gone. I also encountered a few rumors, stories, the like. One of them spoke of a chalice, a magical one, that could heal the sickness or injury of anyone who drank from it. I'm not sure if dragon sickness would fit into that category, but it may be the answer you're looking for."

Thorin considered her words, his expression neutral. "You say this chalice could heal anything?"

"If by anything you mean physical injury or illness, and possibly mental illness, then yes."

"It sounds like a powerful object." Thorin leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table. "Nothing that valuable comes without a price."

"Well, the most obvious drawback of such an artifact would come from its rare abilities and the fact that many people would shed blood to gain possession and control of such a profitable object, as I'm sure we've all seen throughout history as well as other events." Holly drew in a breath, refocusing herself. "But that's beside the point. The reason no one's looking for it is because no one is sure where it is. The chalice was lost sometime during the Second Age. Rumor has it that it's been entombed somewhere along the River Running, but obviously no one has an exact location."

Dwalin, who had been listening with his gaze focused on the wall, turned in his seat to glare at her. "You want us to go on a wild goose chase for a relic that you're not sure exists?"

"I'm not _asking_ you to do anything. I'm simply offering you a solution to a problem you have," Holly replied, fingers twisting harder in the folds of her cloak. "Does anyone have a map of Rhovanion?"

Nori reached into his coat and tossed one of the table.

She gave a brief nod of thanks and unfolded it. "I don't have an exact location, but I have an approximate area. Here." She pointed to a bend in the river, about fifty miles from where it turned away from Mirkwood. "There's a forested area nearby and the ground is fairly dry. It's the ideal place to build and house a secret tomb."

"That's still a large area," Thorin said. "It could take weeks, maybe months, to search all of it. It's not a feasible solution."

"Neither is traveling halfway across the world to kill a dragon, but that didn't stop you before," Holly said, then remembered she was supposed to be convincing them. "I mean, you've made quite a few good points. And you're certainly welcome to try something else that you deem to be better. This is what I've brought to the table. Feel free to consider it."

Holly left the map on the table and walked out of the room. She needed some air.

The courtyard seemed like a good place to gain some privacy, but Nori managed to find her there anyway.

"I didn't know you were here." Somehow Nori made that sound like an accusation.

"Neither did I. Why are _you_ here?"

"Thorin needed someone he could trust to set up a place to meet. Someone who could keep things quiet. I have connections in Erebor and Dale."

Holly nodded.

"But he made no mention that you had returned."

"Well, I would have given notice beforehand, but I wasn't sure how long I'd be staying." She finally turned to face him. Perhaps he wasn't too angry with her.

Nori took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his tone was sharper than the several knives she was sure he had hidden on his person. "Is that really what you spend those two years doing? Learning about magic spells and lost relics?"

"Partially, yes. I traveled a bit. And if you—if you want to yell at me, if you're angry, I understand. So—"

Nori stepped closer, his voice dropping to a growl. "If you understand an inkling of what I am feeling right now, you'd know you shouldn't have left in the first place."

Holly crossed her arms, knowing there was nothing in this situation that she could say that would be _right_. "I'm sorry." She let the words hang there, in the cool night air, a meager offering in a debt she could never repay.

After a few moments, Nori let out a breath. "Is that all?"

"There's nothing else I can say. Please just leave me alone."

"If that's what you want."

Holly stayed silent as he walked back inside. As soon as he closed the door she let out a soft groan, pressing her knuckles to her temples. She couldn't get her friends to forgive her because she couldn't explain herself. Perhaps, once she helped them cure Thorin, they would forgive her out of gratitude.

All the more reason to convince them to find the chalice.

* * *

"What do you think?"

Thorin stopped pacing and looked up. It was just him and Bilbo left in the room—Dwalin had said something about the bar and dragged his brother with him, and Nori had presumably gone to find Holly.

"I think it's far-fetched and most likely a dead end."

"It's also the only plan we've got," Bilbo said, coming to stand next to him, by the window.

"Then we find something more reasonable. I can't afford to spend too much time away from Erebor. From my people. They are my responsibility."

"I know. But we also can't afford to wait around for you to get sicker. We have to figure this out, and soon."

 _We?_ It was such a simple word, but Thorin had to push himself to focus less on that and more on what Bilbo was saying.

"I know Erebor is in good hands until you return. And if you want that to happen as soon as possible, then we should give this a try."

Thorin turned his gaze back to the window. It was a gamble he wasn't sure he wanted to take. "Holly disappeared for two years. We don't know what happened to her, or who she met, while she was gone."

"Look, I know Holly isn't the most reliable person we know, but she must have traveled far since she left. I know she did before we met her. I do believe that she knows what she's talking about."

"So you trust her?"

"I trust her plan," Bilbo replied, his tone clipped. "I trust that she has the solution we need." When Thorin said nothing else, he continued, "Sleep on it, then. We have some time." He headed for the door. "I'm going to go down. Might get a drink with Dwalin."

Thorin raised his head. "Wait." For a moment he considered asking Bilbo to stay, but he'd already been selfish enough. "Thank you. You did the right thing, making me come out here."

Bilbo smiled. "You're feeling better, then? More—" He gestured vaguely to his head.

Thorin couldn't help but return a smile of his own. "Yes, I am. Well, I won't keep you any longer. And keep an eye on Dwalin. I want an early start tomorrow."

* * *

Holly found herself back in the courtyard the next day. Despite being a public place, it afforded her a semblance of privacy. She could be alone with her thoughts, which wasn't pleasant, but it was better than being alone with a group of scowling dwarves (and hobbit), none of which would voluntarily talk to her.

Though she could make an exception to that, Holly mused as Thorin entered the courtyard and made for where she was standing against one of the walls.

"I've considered your proposition," he said. "And I've decided our best option is to find this chalice."

"Oh." Holly wasn't sure if she should be happy, or surprised, or if she was supposed to feel anything at all. "I suppose I should come with you, then. You'll need my knowledge of magic."

Thorin nodded. "We're bringing a small group—you, Dwalin, Nori, Bilbo, and myself. We'll gather supplies today and leave this afternoon."

"All right." It would have been nice to have the whole Company back together again, but she supposed the others had already built new lives in Erebor. And she wasn't too keen on having twice as many people that were angry with her around.

"But you're not going with us dressed like that," Thorin said.

Holly raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Yes, her dress was old and torn and had some suspicious stains that she hadn't been able to wash out, but it had held up well enough the first time she'd gone on a life-threatening journey.

He reached into his pocket and tossed her a small pouch of coins. "Find some proper traveling clothes. And be ready by sundown."

She weighed the bag in her hand as he walked away. The thought of handling gold again made her a bit sick, but she wasn't really opposed to being handed money.

Fine. If getting new clothes meant she could potentially mend her friendships, then she would need to find the nearest tailor.

* * *

Holly sighed and tugged at her trousers again. She'd never worn them before, and didn't like the way the fabric touched the insides of her thighs.

Though she'd been able to endure it so far. They'd left Dale hours ago and were camped out in the woods to the south. Through the trees, Holly could see the Long Lake, illuminated by the light of the moon. The wreckage of Laketown had been mostly cleared away and the useful bits had been salvaged. A few outposts had sprung up further down the lake, which would likely grow into a new Laketown.

Holly rested her chin in her hand. _That'll be the third time they've tried building a town on this lake._ She wouldn't be surprised if a new dragon flew down from the north just to destroy it.

There were a few things that had been left behind from her old home, though. Chief among them were bad memories and something that she had put off for years. She just had to walk the short distance to the outskirts of the woods.

Holly glanced back to where the rest of her group was sitting around the campfire. They wouldn't miss her. She stood and made her way through the trees.

Several yards from the bank, rows of gravestones stood at attention. A few were old enough to have been worn down to lumps of stone, but Holly knew which one she was looking for.

She found it after a few minutes and sat down on the slightly damp ground, tucking her legs under her.

"Hi, da. I-I know it's been several years since I visited, but I'm leaving again and I just thought I'd visit. Before I go. And I know it's a bit strange that I'm rambling to a dead man, but I've expressed several over behaviors symptomatic of an insane person so I don't see the point in trying to act like I'm normal."

Holly let out a shaky sigh, turning her head to focus on the waters of the lake. Even after two years, she thought she could still see ash in the water.

"I think I'm the only one left. Mother died after I left, though I'm not sure when, exactly. And I don't know where Myra is." She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and twisted it between two fingers. "I also figured out what happened to you. I mean, it took me twenty years, but I fixed it. I killed the bastard that made you—you know. I'm hoping that will sort of evens things out." She swallowed, hard, and when she spoke again her voice came out at half the volume. "I still miss you."

A cracking noise made her stand. She almost dismissed it as a wild animal, but the sound appeared again. And again. The noise rose from several locations, all beneath the ground. Holly swore as the cacophony faded to a more muffled scratching. And the earth itself seemed to come alive.

She broke into a run as more undead emerged from their graves. She was too surprised to react as bony fingers wrapped around her ankle. The ground came up to meet her with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.

Holly swore again, thinking this would be a terribly ironic way to die. However, she wasn't willing to go so quickly now, not without putting up a fight.

 **Zombies! When I came up** **with** **the plot for this fic, I was really into zombie stuff (The Walking Dead, The Last of Us, etc) and you'll definitely see those influences throughout the rest of the story. I promise this isn't a zombie apocalypse fic, though.**

 **Next chapter, we'll see what happens with the undead and we'll get an appearance from a yet-unseen character introduced in this chapter...**

 **Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. I appreciate any and all feedback.**


	5. A Lesson in the Specifics of Magic

**Chapter 5: A Lesson in the Specifics of Magic**

Bilbo found some much needed quiet in the woods next to the campsite.

He had been holding up well after everything that had happened in the last couple of days, but at the moment he just needed to be alone. Holly's return, the undead attack, Thorin's relapse...he needed some time alone to process all of it.

He slid the ring out of his pocket and examined it. The gold surface was so shiny, so perfectly crafted. Even after a hundred times of gazing at it, the marvel never seemed to wear off. Neither did the feeling of putting it on. Even when he didn't need to disappear, he needed to put it on sometimes, for reasons he couldn't explain. He was just supposed to.

Something was waiting in the south. It was like a pull, a whispering call that had been there for some time, but Bilbo had never paid much attention to it. But now that they were headed south, the voice prickling in the back of his mind seemed a bit louder.

A bright flash through the trees caught his eye. Bilbo pulled off the ring ( _when had he put it on?_ ) and made his way toward the source.

More of the dead. They had swarmed an area near the lake, what seemed to be a graveyard. Dark holes that looked like countless open wounds lined the grass. Toward the center of the crowd a few of the undead, or what remained of their charred bodies, were lying motionless. And further into the mass, Bilbo spotted Holly, who was wrestling with one of the bony figures as it tried to grip her throat.

Bilbo drew his sword and rushed into the throng. He jumped as a bony hand grasped his arm, and swiped at the assailant with his sword. Its arm came off at the elbow, but that didn't seem to register with the advancing skeleton.

"The head!"

Bilbo turned at the sound of Holly's voice and saw her shove away the skeleton that she'd been wrestling with.

"Go for the skull, that'll incapacitate them a bit more permanently."

He wondered how she still managed to use big words like that when fighting for her life. One of the undead came at her from behind, its hands wrapping around her shoulders. "Holly!" He ran over and used the flat edge of his sword to knock the skull clean off, and the undead collapsed like a rag doll. Bilbo grabbed her arm. "We need to get out of here."

They managed to escape the way he'd come, but Holly slowed to a halt once they'd reached a safe distance from the horde. The undead turned slowly and began ambling in their direction. "We can't just leave them there."

"We won't be able to fight all of them off," Bilbo replied. Not with swords, anyway. "You could burn them. With your magic."

"I don't want to do that. As in, I'm not strong enough," she added. "I blasted a few of them and I don't think I have the energy for another spell."

"How did you know that taking out the skull would kill them?"

"It made sense. And they can't really be killed, seeing as they're already dead."

The brush crackled as Thorin, Nori, and Dwalin appeared, weapons drawn.

Thorin looked from the undead to Holly to Bilbo. "Again?"

"How did you stop them the first time?" Holly asked.

"We didn't. By the time the guards arrived they'd all gone back to being corpses." His gaze grew intense. "Whoever was reanimating them must have lost their hold."

Holly's face grew pale and she opened her mouth to retort, but Bilbo interrupted, "Um, could we maybe do this when there's not a group of undead headed our way?" Although the corpses were sluggish in their movements, they were coming a bit too close for comfort.

But even as he said it, the mass of corpses began to falter, then stopped completely as the dropped to the ground one by one.

Holly was the first to speak, her voice shaking. "Well, in response to your earlier statement, one of the undead did try to strangle me. So I fail to see how this attack would be considered _my_ fault if I was the only one in danger."

"I just find it strange that you were present for both of these incidents," Thorin replied. "That situation has befallen no one else."

Bilbo hated to admit it but Thorin had a point. Holly was the only person connecting the two events and she was the only one in the group who knew how to use magic.

"You think my involvement in this was so obvious, don't you?" Bilbo realized Holly was shaking with anger. "You think you can come up with one _possible_ explanation of _some_ of the facts you've been given and start pointing fingers at the first person you don't trust?" She stalked toward Thorin, eyes blazing. "My _parents_ are buried in that graveyard. What possible reason would I have for defiling their resting place with something like necromancy? Furthermore, how could I have the magical ability to reanimate an entire graveyard of corpses when I come close to blacking out after performing a simple offensive spell? But you wouldn't have considered any of that, would you, given your complete lack of knowledge of magical theory, made rather evident by—"

Bilbo held up a hand. "Holly, I think you've made your point." He knew from experience that she was capable of going on for quite some time. "But if it's not you, then what else is causing this?"

She turned to him, her gaze still sharp. "I haven't figured that out yet. But I will." She turned back to the others. "I'll prove my innocence if that's what it takes for you lot to trust me."

Thorin glanced at the pile of dead bodies, then turned back to Holly. "I apologize if I was hasty in coming to a conclusion. But we _will_ find out who, or what, is causing this. And they will be punished accordingly."

Holly blinked rapidly at his statement, then nodded and walked away. Bilbo watched her go for a moment before running to catch up with her. "Wait."

She turned to look at him with wary eyes that also contained a bit of hope.

"First of all, are you hurt?" He was still angry with her, but he couldn't completely stop himself from feeling concern for her.

"Just a bit bruised," Holly replied, rubbing her arm. "I'm fine."

"Right. I just want you to consider something. Are you sure what just happened isn't leftover from—you know. What happened with Smaug and—"

"I'm quite finished with matters concerning both dark magic and things that are supposed to be dead but aren't."

"Are you sure? Because you said that before and, well—"

"I had my soul split in two, in case you'd forgotten. Seems like an efficient method of getting rid of curses and the like," Holly said, her voice hard. "I-I don't know what's happening. But I'm going to figure it out and fix it," she added in a softer tone.

The determination in her eyes reminded Bilbo of a simpler time, one where he might have held her in his arms and promised to work by her side. But they had both changed since then, and the hurt she had left behind kept him from doing anything more than saying, "All right," and leaving her in the shadows of the trees.

* * *

Holly found herself spending less and less time with the rest of the group. She hadn't made any progress in investigating the undead. The remains had provided little information, and she couldn't find much else until it happened again. And until she found answers, she wasn't too keen on spending time with people who didn't trust her.

The shelter of the trees became a sort of haven for her. They were traveling along the side of the river opposite of Mirkwood—she never would have voluntarily entered that forest again. But the small woods on the other side seemed to have been protected from whatever dark magic infected its neighbor.

She was sitting still, trying to quiet the swirling thoughts in her mind, when someone nearly tripped over her. She caught a glimpse of long legs and leapt to her feet.

In one fluid motion, the stranger had an arrow nocked and pointed at her face. Holly, having no weapon, held up her hands.

She almost pulled her _I'm a lost little girl, please don't hurt me_ card, then realized she didn't have to do that anymore. " _Galthel perien ce_ —" Before Holly could finish the incantation, her opponent delivered a swift jab to her throat. She choked, one hand coming up to her neck.

"Don't try that," the other said, and Holly was surprised to hear a woman's voice under the hood.

Holly glared and coughed. One day she would learn nonverbal spells.

The other woman slipped the arrow back into the quiver at her hip, apparently not considering Holly a threat anymore. "Do you always sleep in the bushes?"

"Occasionally." Her voice came out raspy and she cleared her throat. She took note of the green and brown uniform and straightened. "You're a ranger."

"I am."

Holly decided to speak at a whisper, to preserve her voice and her dignity. "Well, it seems you're in the wrong part of Middle Earth. Too far north, if I had to guess. Did they send you away for attacking defenseless women?"

"To be fair, you did try to incinerate me. Or turn me into a frog, I couldn't really tell." The ranger leaned against a tree and stuck out her hand. "Víriel."

"Pleasure," Holly said, but didn't take her hand. "And for your information, transformative magic is highly complicated and wouldn't involve such a simple incantation."

She could almost hear Víriel smile as she dropped her hand back to her side. "That's good to know. Are you lost or something? Is your family around?"

Holly swallowed, hard. She was far away from their campsite that their campfire couldn't be seen from here. And while they weren't trying to kill each other anymore, she still didn't trust Víriel. "I'm certainly not lost. And I'm traveling alone. In fact, I should be going now." She would wander around for a bit, try to lose Víriel in case she tried to follow her.

There was the barest rustle of brush as another hooded ranger stepped into view. "Víriel? Who are you talking to?"

At the sound of the other's voice, Holly froze. Of all the people for her to meet in the wilds of Rhovanion in the middle of the night...

She could tell by the angle of the ranger's head that she was staring at her. "Holly?"

"Good evening. How terrible it is to see you again. Well, I have to be off now. Goodbye." Holly spoke rapidly, trying to quell the shaking in her hands.

Víriel's head swiveled between the two of them. "Wait a moment. _This_ is Holly?"

"If you make a comment about my height I _will_ make a second attempt at incinerating you," Holly said, backing away. "This has been fun, but I'm leaving now." She pushed her way through the brush, glaring hard at the shadowed trees.

"Your campsite and your companions are in the other direction," the newcomer said, smugness evident in her voice. "No need to try and fool us. You were never very good at lying, anyway."

"She almost had me fooled," Holly heard Víriel say as she marched back toward the pair of rangers.

"You are not meeting my friends. You are to go _nowhere_ near them." Holly pointed a warning finger in the direction of the newcomer.

"And since when have I needed your permission to do anything?"

"You're right, I seem to recall you always being the one trying to control me."

Víriel held up a hand. "As entertaining as this is to watch, it's getting a bit late."

Her companion nodded. "Then we should waste no more time in introducing ourselves."

Holly followed the rangers as they made their way back to the camp, spitting curses under her breath. She was no longer concerned for her friends' safety, but their sanity was an entirely different matter.

She entered the camp a few seconds after the rangers, but her group already had their weapons drawn.

"Don't worry, they're not a threat," Holly said, stepping in front of the intruders. "Just a couple of rangers who can't seem to _mind their own business_." She threw that last bit over her shoulder with a glare.

"How can you be so sure?" Thorin asked.

Holly pressed her mouth into a flat line. Keeping more secrets wouldn't be doing much of a favor to her credibility. "I know her," she gestured to the second ranger.

When the dwarves didn't stop staring suspiciously, she grit her teeth and sighed.

"I know her because she's my sister."

 **Plot twists! Action! Excitement?! We'll find out more about Holly's sister in the next chapter, and why Holly doesn't talk about her-though I'm sure you can make your guesses from the interactions they've had so far.**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to comment on this chapter; I appreciate any and all feedback.**


	6. A Childish Feud

**Chapter 6: A Childish Feud**

As the ranger pushed back her hood, Bilbo couldn't help but think there was no way she could be Holly's sister.

Holly was all sharp angles, dark hair, and vibrant eyes, and always talked a little too fast. This woman had light brown eyes and hair, and a pleasant roundness to her face. She spoke as though she was used to addressing large crowds of people. Then he noticed how she studied the members of their group—seeming to take in everything at once—and realized their relation wasn't so far fetched.

The ranger nodded at Holly. "I see you still have a flair for the dramatic." She turned to the rest of the group. "My name is Myra, Ranger of Ithilien. And this is my companion, Víriel."

"Thank you for that introduction," Holly said, looking a bit murderous.

Thorin stepped forward. "Something tells me this is no chance meeting."

"The Valar are rarely so lazy," Myra replied. "Though I did not seek you out, I believe we were meant to cross paths."

As she swept another appraising glance across the members of their group, Bilbo realized where he had seen that expression before. Nearly three years ago, on the face of a young woman brimming with cold confidence. He'd always assumed that Holly had just _been_ like that. Now he wasn't so sure that she hadn't been copying someone else.

They must have been close at one time for Holly to have picked up on her sister's mannerisms. And if Myra had been able to handle Holly as a child, then she must have some idea about what to do with her now.

"You should camp with us tonight, then." Bilbo said. "To give you a chance for you and your sister to, ah, catch up."

Holly shot him a glare but didn't protest.

Myra offered him a smile that seemed more of a courtesy than anything else. "That sounds like a wonderful idea." She turned and said something in a low voice to Holly, who scowled and shot something back in the same volume.

Bilbo turned as Thorin put a hand on his elbow. "What are you doing?" He spoke just above a whisper, sparing a glance at the two rangers who were now settling down. "We know nothing about them. We don't know if we can trust them."

"Well, apparently one of them is Holly's sister," Bilbo replied. He was still a bit annoyed that Holly hadn't mentioned that to him. There were probably many things she hadn't told him. "And aren't rangers supposed to have a code of honor, or something?"

"They are sworn to protect the free peoples of Middle Earth, that is true," Thorin replied. "But a code of honor only goes so far."

"Well, I don't think they're bad people. I have a feeling we can trust them."

Thorin looked like he wanted to argue further, but just sighed. "Keep an eye on them, then." He clasped Bilbo's shoulder briefly, then went to confer with Nori and Dwalin.

Bilbo turned to see that Holly was talking with Víriel, a good distance from where her sister was sitting. There was his opportunity. He sat next to Myra and held out his hand. "Bilbo Baggins."

"Pleasure." She gave his hand one firm shake. "I do apologize for my sister's behavior, by the way. She's always been so resentful."

"Does she resent you?" He knew he didn't have to beat around the bush with someone like Myra.

"Well." Her smile turned a bit stiff. "There is quite a bit of history between us. Old scores, unresolved quarrels, the like. You seem to harbor some resentment towards her. She tend to have that effect on people."

Bilbo wasn't keen on responding to that last comment. "So you can do that, too? Look at someone and read their whole life story?"

"I was the one that taught her. But she decided to use her skills to alienate people."

The Holly he knew had done the opposite. She had kept her abilities to herself for the first few months of the quest because she knew the dwarves wouldn't like it. "When was the last time you saw her? Because she's changed quite a bit since then."

"The last time I saw Holly was nearly ten years ago, but I've known her for twice that time." Myra sent a sharp-eyed glance toward where her sister was sitting. "She hasn't changed quite as much as I'd hoped. She's still childish. Angry. Naïve."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "You really don't know her. She has been through...she's had to go through some terrible things in those ten years. I don't think you could even begin to imagine."

"I don't think I could," she said in a rather dismissive tone. Myra focused her analytic gaze on him. "Tell me, what is your connection to Holly?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't need to repeat myself, do I?"

Bilbo decided he was liking her less and less. "I know she is your sister, but I don't think that's any of your business."

"I think it is. I'll be blunt, then—you care a great deal about her, quite evidently."

Bilbo gave an incredulous, half-confused laugh. "You said I resented her. Because she'd figured out my darkest secrets and all that."

This time Myra didn't even try to hide her condescending expression. "I know how to extract information from people."

Bilbo had forgotten what it was like to face the unnerving intelligence that seemed to run in the Galafin family. "Where are you going with this?"

"Clearly we have a common goal in mind, which is why I want you to listen very carefully."

* * *

"I have a hard time believing you two are sisters." Víriel had her hood down and was reclined against one of the trees at the edge of the camp.

Holly was sitting next to her, legs crossed. "Understandable. I tried to convince her that she was adopted once. She doesn't look like either of our parents."

Now that Víriel's face was exposed, Holly could get a better look at her. Her blonde hair was held back in a loose braid. A few flyaways framed a pair of green eyes and soft lips that seemed perpetually tilted into a smirk.

"—seem rather alike, in my opinion."

Holly blinked, realizing Víriel was staring at her expectantly. "Were you talking to me?"

Víriel raised her eyebrows and looked around. No one else was nearby.

"Sorry. I was lost in thought," Holly said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry. Myra does that sometimes too."

"Most people do," she replied, annoyed at the thought of being compared to her sister.

"She's not most people. Are you also a genius?"

Holly rolled her eyes. "By your standards, yes. By her standards, no." She sighed and leaned back on her hands. "It was always, _Don't be smart, Holly, I'm the smart one._ I used to think I was a complete idiot until we started spending time with the other children."

"So that's it? This," Víriel gestured between the two sisters, "Is just a sibling rivalry?"

"Yes. Just a childish feud. It wasn't as if she tried to control me and decide what was best for my life without actually consulting me about it." Holly didn't particularly mind revealing information about this particular subject to someone who she would likely never see again. And if she wanted to pass on that information to Myra, she was most certainly welcome.

"That sounds a bit more intense than a sibling rivalry."

"Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Myra is my friend. And I want to get both sides of the story for something that is clearly hurting you both."

Holly blinked at the shrewd comment, but quickly dismissed it. "I wouldn't give her that much credit. Myra is bothersome at best." She shifted and began fiddling with the grass next to her feet. "So she has friends, now? I suppose we both ended up figuring that out."

Víriel glanced around the campsite. Her eyes lingered on Dwalin, who was sharpening one of his twin axes. "And these are your friends? They don't look very friendly."

A sting appeared in the back of her throat as she remembered her own situation. "Still working on that."

Víriel patted her knee. "I'll be your friend."

"Don't patronize me." Holly straightened. "My turn to ask questions. How did Myra become a ranger?"

Víriel shrugged. "She'd already made a name for herself when I met her. I've lived with the rangers all my life, but I was out on a mission when she arrived. That was about…" She tilted her head in thought. "Seven years ago, I believe."

"Funny to think we were within a few miles of each other all that time." She wondered if Myra had gone south looking for her. Though it was far more likely that she'd just been in search of a place where things actually _happened_. Minds like theirs couldn't stay still for long, especially not in a place like Laketown.

"So you went south, too? Myra told me you left your home town before she did."

Holly nodded. "I traveled quite a bit after I left. And you're currently going north?"

"Meeting with a contact in Dale. Things have changed since the dragon Smaug was defeated. We're trying to establish stronger ties between the north and south."

"Sounds like a worthy cause," she replied, squeezing the fabric of her sleeve with one hand. "Well, we're headed down the river, so I suppose we'll be going our separate ways tomorrow." And she didn't know why that bothered her until she realized that in addition to being remarkably easy to talk to, Víriel was also the only person in their camp that she'd never met before. Holly didn't have to feel guilty around her.

"We should probably get some rest, then. Thank you for the conversation. And Holly?"

She stopped in the middle of getting to her feet.

"Myra does care about you. I know what she's like. But under all those layers of condescension, and bossiness, and sternness—"

"Yes, I get the point. Good night."

There was no point in trying to resolve a decade-old conflict. Besides, she already had relationships to mend, ones that she really cared about.

* * *

They packed quickly the next morning. Holly was eager for her group to be on their way, but she couldn't leave without a bit of closure.

"It was nice meeting you," she said to Víriel, who smiled in return, and to Myra, "Goodbye. It was nice to know you didn't die at a young age."

"I return the sentiment. Goodbye, little sister."

Holly rolled her eyes and turned away, but apparently Myra wasn't finished.

"I still have one more thing to discuss with you."

She allowed Myra to pull her to one side and stood with her arms crossed. "If you don't mind, we're on a bit of a schedule."

"I can see that." Her sister glanced back to where the others were waiting. "I can't imagine where three dwarves, a halfling, and _you_ would be traveling, except into the face of danger. You've always fancied yourself a dragon slayer of sorts."

She couldn't help but tense up at that, and hoped it didn't show on her face. "You have no idea."

Myra raised an eyebrow. "Show me."

Holly copied the movement. "What?"

"Don't make me spell it out for you," Myra said as she slipped off her gloves.

She sighed and raised her left hand, palm facing forward.

Myra stepped forward and reached out, but Holly pulled her hand back.

"Don't." At the prompting look from her sister, she huffed and held her hand back out.

Myra examined it with clinical detachment, studying her scar from the back, then the front. "I was afraid of this." She fixed her sister with a stern look and dropped her hand. "You've gotten yourself mixed up with the wrong people."

"Don't tell me who to associate with."

"I know why you're traveling with them. You like looking for trouble. And you know how that used to upset mother."

At this, Holly gave an incredulous laugh. "Me? _I_ upset mother?"

"Oh, you didn't know? She was devastated when you left."

"I'm sure she didn't even notice I was gone," Holly said, ignoring the tightness in her chest. She didn't need to be guilted into doing her sister's bidding again. "What do you want? I'm sure you didn't pull me aside just to pester me."

"Wherever you're going, I don't trust you to keep yourself safe. Which is why Víriel will be accompanying you."

"You're being ridiculous. Haven't you got your own business to attend to?"

"Yes, business that I can complete on my own. And Víriel's already agreed to travel with you." Myra nodded toward Víriel, who gave a small wave in return.

"Well, I'm afraid it's not up to me," Holly replied, a vicious grin growing on her face. "Thorin's our leader, and you'd have to bring it up with him. And he won't agree to bring an outsider with us."

Myra merely raised an eyebrow at that and returned to where the others were standing. "I have a proposition for you," she said to Thorin, who Holly could tell was getting impatient. "It is the duty of the rangers to protect the free peoples of Middle Earth. And I believe the skill set of a ranger could be useful on your journey."

"I don't endorse this," Holly said, for the purpose of clarification.

Víriel stepped forward. "I know how to track, hunt, and how to use a sword and bow. Wherever you're all going, I'm sure I can be helpful."

Thorin shook his head. "While I appreciate the offer, we don't need assistance."

"I think it's a good idea," Bilbo said. "We could use some help in figuring out where to go. Someone who can actually read a map," he added with a pointed look at Thorin that Holly didn't understand.

She shifted her gaze from Bilbo to Myra. They had been talking last night. She grabbed Myra's arm and spoke in a low voice. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm simply offering you help. And if you're half as smart as you think you are, you'll accept it."

Holly glanced over to where Thorin and Bilbo were having a similar heated conversation in hushed tones.

"You're letting your emotions blind you, Holly. It's the logical choice, to accept help from someone who's qualified to guide you."

Holly opened her mouth to argue, then closed it.

"Just be silent for a moment and think. Or have you forgotten how to do that?"

She took a deep breath. It did make sense, as much as she hated to admit it. And she had to do what was best for the others, no matter what it meant for herself.

"This is the last time you get to interfere with my life," Holly said, and walked to where the dwarves and Bilbo were standing. "It is the logical choice," she said to them. "If we're going to be searching a wooded area, it would be best to—"

"I've already made my decision," Thorin cut her off. He locked eyes with her. "Do not tell her anything she doesn't need to know. Not our true purpose, nor who I am. Understood?"

"Oh. Yes." Holly cast a glance at Bilbo, who looked away. "I understand."

She went to retrieve her pack, letting Thorin convey his decision to the rangers. She wasn't too keen on giving a final goodbye, especially to someone she wanted out of her life for good.

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought; I'd really appreciate it.**


	7. Trial and Error

**Chapter 7: Trial and Error**

"What did my sister say to you?" Holly asked, falling into stride next to Bilbo. They'd exited the small forest earlier that day, and were now traversing the open plains beside the River Running.

"That's none of your business."

Holly nearly flinched at his icy tone. She knew he was trying to cut their conversation short, but she couldn't let that stop her. Even if she did feel something heavy settle in her chest at the thought.

"Myra isn't one for friendly conversation. She obviously wanted something from you, and if I know her at all, it must have had something to do with me."

Bilbo was silent for a moment. "She was the one who made you like that."

"What?"

"She acts the same way you did when I first met you. And she can do the same things, like reading people, gathering information…"

Holly sighed. "She played her little trick on you, didn't she? Made it seem like she didn't know the truth so you'd tell her what she wanted to know."

"S-Something like that."

"I hate it when she does that. People don't like telling others what they want, you know. But they love to contradict the things they know are wrong."

Bilbo gave a slow nod. "So she taught you all that."

"Yes."

"And she's the reason you act strange, sometimes."

Holly tapped her temple. "I wouldn't give her that much credit."

"Oh. Right."

"That's Myra's talent—manipulating people. So whatever she convinced you was a good idea, you may want to reconsider."

Bilbo went silent for another minute, likely digesting what she'd said.

"She's seven years older than me," Holly continued, afraid to let the silence drag out for much longer. Perhaps they could just go back to easy conversation, like before. "And much smarter. I'm surprised she decided to become a ranger, of all things."

"Well, thank you for the advice," Bilbo said.

"Anytime."

More silence. "So did you leave her too? She mentioned something about that."

"I did, but under different circumstances."

Bilbo made eye contact with her for the first time in their conversation, and she saw the same raw hurt that had been there the first day she'd come back. "Is that what you do? You make people care about you and then leave?"

"I'm sorry, all right? I just…" She kept hitting the same wall. There was nothing more she could say. "Sorry." Holly closed her mouth and let silence grow like a fog, swallowing up the distance between them.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Holly woke from another nightmare and realized that being a mage wasn't enough. Until she built up the strength to use more than one spell, it wouldn't be an effective way to defend herself and her friends. She needed another weapon.

"Teach me how to use a sword," she said to Thorin once they'd stopped to rest the next day. "Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Why?"

"I want to be able to defend myself. So I don't have to rely on others to defend me."

Thorin nodded. "Dwalin will teach you."

Holly realized that it had been rather inconsiderate to ask him. He hadn't said anything yet but she knew he'd sustained an injury in his left arm that limited its movement. He wasn't in the best condition to teach her anything.

"Right." She eyed Dwalin nervously as he approached them, unsheathing a short sword from his belt. "I should, um, have a weapon too, right?"

Víriel walked over, drawing her own short sword. "Here."

Holly nodded and accepted the blade. It was lighter than she'd expected. She raised the sword with both hands, studying the sharp edge. "Is there a proper way to hold this?"

"Use your first three fingers to hold it," Dwalin instructed, and waited for her to adjust her grip. "Then use the rest of your fingers to stop your swing."

She dropped her left hand back to her side as Thorin and Víriel moved back to give them some space.

Holly expected drills like she'd seen soldiers do, or for Dwalin to teach her the correct way to stand, or something. What she did not expect was for the muscular dwarf to charge her, sword flying out in a horizontal swing that had her reeling back.

"What are you _doing_?" Holly moved her sword to block his next swing, but apparently she'd angled it wrong because the weapon went flying from her hands. The next thing she knew, the ground had knocked the air from her lungs and Dwalin's sword was inches from her throat.

The dwarf lifted the sword and moved back. "Get up and try again."

Holly gaped, then moved to retrieve her sword. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"If I was, you'd already be dead." Dwalin came at her again.

This time she was prepared, but it was mere seconds before she was knocked on her back again. She grimaced and pushed herself to her feet.

Holly waited for him to attack and ducked under his swing, bringing her own sword up to strike at his exposed back, but he'd already carried his momentum to make a full rotation and was able to block her blade. She brought her sword up as he swiped at her again, trying to push his blade to the side, but the dwarf overpowered her and knocked her weapon from her hands once more.

"Don't try and use force. You're smaller and you can move faster—use that to your advantage. Again."

After a half hour or so, Dwalin sheathed his sword. "That's enough. We'll continue tomorrow."

Holly nodded, picking herself up for what must have been the fiftieth time since they'd started. She was covered in sweat, dirt, and bruises and didn't have the breath to give thanks as the dwarf walked away. Dwalin didn't even look winded. Half her hair had come loose from where she'd tied it back at the nape of her neck. She retrieved her sword from where it had been knocked away and walked over to Víriel. "Here."

The ranger wiped it off on her shirt and sheathed it. "You look exhausted. And your hair's a mess. I'll fix it for you."

Holly had every intention of protesting, but really all she wanted to do was sit down so she grunted her assent and took a seat. The taller woman knelt behind her and began combing Holly's hair back with her fingers.

Once she'd recovered enough air in her lungs to deliver a complete sentence, Holly asked, "Why are you here?"

"Myra already explained that to you. I was there for that conversation, remember?" Víriel replied.

"So you just do whatever she tells you?"

"If I agree with it. And—sorry." She paused as pulled on a knot. "And don't bother directing whatever resentment you have at me. I had nothing to do with whatever you're so angry at Myra about."

"Fair enough. But why are you _really_ here? You don't know any of us, you don't even know where we're going, but you've still decided to help."

"I want to help people, even if they're strangers. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes." Holly sucked in a sharp breath as Víriel pulled back the strands of hair above her ears, nails lightly raking over the skin. A shiver trailed down her neck. "Yes."

"I suppose you'll just have to take my word on that, then. Though it would be nice to know—where _are_ we going?"

"We're searching for something along the River Running," Holly replied.

"Is that all you're going to tell me?" Víriel asked, a slight smile in her voice.

"Yes. But I will tell you that this is important, and once we find what we're looking for, it's going to help a lot of people. I can't go into much more detail." She leaned back on one hand, then winced and prodded at the spot on her shoulder where Dwalin had elbowed her. "I'm beginning to regret asking for sword fighting lessons."

"Really? You improved quite a bit."

"Yes, I improved so much that I was able to stay standing for an entire thirty seconds."

Víriel laughed. "It's a good method, trust me. It's how I was trained. You learn through trial and error. Though it can't be done for an entire army, it trains an individual fighter to be more adaptable in their fighting style and eventually creates a far more dangerous warrior than any number of drills could."

"I never thought about it that way. Though I don't know how effective it'll be for me."

"From what I could see, you're a rather quick learner."

"See, that's the problem. If this didn't involve moving around, I'd already be an expert. But it's hard to make my body keep up with my mind."

"That's why you need practice." Víriel patted her shoulder. "All right. Done."

Holly reached back to run one hand along the neat braid. "Thank you."

She liked having people take care of her, Holly realized, and the thought left a strange, aching warmth in her chest. She glanced over at where the others were sitting and preparing dinner and touched her braid again.

She couldn't just wait for them to forgive her, if they ever decided to. If there was one thing her sword fighting lesson had taught her, it was that she was better with words anyway.

* * *

After dinner, Holly dismissed the fifteen excuses she'd tried to make up, hesitated for half an hour, and finally marched herself over to where Nori was smoking his pipe.

"I want to talk to you," she said, kneeling next to him. "It's important."

Nori took his pipe out of his mouth and, after a long pause, said, "Well?"

"Not here." Holly stood and led him a little ways off from their camp, where they wouldn't be overheard. Once they were far enough, she opened her mouth to speak. Something seemed to be blocking her airway, where words would normally exit.

Nori crossed his arms. "What did you want to tell me?"

"The truth," she managed. "About…" Holly pressed her palms over her eyes, trying to collect her thoughts. "I...all right."

She explained all of it in an orderly list: her father, Damon, Smaug, the Morgul venom. She explained why she'd left and how she'd spent two years with a group of mages, learning from them and burying her memories of the battle beneath the new influx of knowledge. She tried her best to put into words how she had felt after the battle and answered Nori's questions to the best of her ability.

The whole explanation took less than ten minutes, but it was twice as exhausting as her sword training. "That's everything that I've been keeping from you. Everything that's relevant, anyway."

"Why did you keep that from everyone?"

"Would you have believed me afterwards? Would you have _trusted_ me?"

Nori shook his head, though it was more in disbelief than disagreement. "You know, for a genius, you are incredibly thick."

Holly sighed. "Look, if...if you hate me and don't trust me after this, that's completely justified, and…" She clamped her lips shut, unable to say anymore.

Holly only really broke down when Nori asked, "When was the last time someone hugged you?" and pulled her into his arms.

"Sorry—sorry." She didn't know if she was apologizing for getting his coat wet or for everything else she had done.

"I won't say you did everything right, especially leaving," Nori said. "But I had no idea you...Mahal, Holly. Part of me wishes that bastard was still alive so I could kill him myself."

She could hear undercurrents of anger in his voice, and had to remind herself that it wasn't directed at her. "I'd rather him stay dead, really."

Nori hummed his agreement. "And Bilbo knew all about this?"

"Yes, I-I'm sorry I told him and not you initially. I just...well…"

"It's all right, I understand. You're in love with him."

She most definitely had been. "You really are more observant than I give you credit for."

"Which has always been the case."

Holly let out a shaky laugh and stepped back, realizing she'd probably been clinging on him for too long. "Are you still angry with me?"

"No. But…" Nori sent her a look that reminded Holly how dwarves never forgot when they were wronged. "You're not going to leave like that again. Understand?"

"Of course. I promise."

He clasped her shoulder. "Get some rest, then."

Holly dried her eyes and followed him back into the camp. She had most definitely made some progress, and her odds were down to sixty seven percent. Tomorrow she would decide to lower that number a bit further, she decided with a nervous glance at Bilbo.

For now she needed to sleep, and face her nightmares head on for once.

* * *

A few miles back from where they were traveling, the River Running had plunged down a waterfall and into a narrow valley. It was shallow enough that they could hear the roar of the water as it passed below. The early summer heat had settled its stifling blanket across the land, despite how far north they were traveling.

But even the heat couldn't put Holly in a bad mood, especially now that Nori was talking to her again. Her euphoria quickly evaporated, however, when he brought up the one subject she'd been meaning to avoid.

"How come you never mentioned you had a sister?"

She scowled. "You met her. Why do you think I never brought her up?"

Nori chuckled. "Fair enough. I know what it's like to have an older sibling who won't stay out of your business."

"Trust me, Dori is not nearly as bad as Myra." Holly paused, swallowing down the guilt that had welled up in her throat. "How...How is he?"

"He's doing well. Don't worry about it, all right?"

"Look." Bilbo's voice caught their attention, and everyone turned to where he was pointing. "Across the valley, I can see a couple of people."

"Two men, by the looks of it," Dwalin said.

"Should we be worried?"

"They'd have a hard time crossing to our side of the valley," Thorin said. "Let's keep moving."

Holly scrutinized the two figures. She couldn't see much from their distance, but she was more concerned about what they would be doing in the wilds. Most likely they were traveling to Rhûn, and wouldn't cross paths with them, so she decided not to dwell on it.

She lowered her gaze, and subsequently caught sight of the soil beneath Bilbo's feet shifting as he moved to get a closer look at the strangers. "Bilbo, look out!" She darted forward to grab his arm and pull him back, but the ground beneath her feet began to slide as well and before she knew what was happening they both tumbled over the edge of the cliff.

There was a ledge not too far down that broke their fall—

— _Holly pushed herself up, the snow biting into her palms. Her hand bled from the stab wound but that hadn't happened yet, why was she bleeding? She scrambled to find her dagger in the snow, she needed to find it quickly, but Damon was already gripping her arm and she couldn't do this again_ —

"Holly, it's me." Bilbo released her arm and moved back, eyebrows drawn together.

There was dirt beneath her nails, and the rock wall behind her wasn't covered in snow and dust. She was near the River Running, far away from Ravenhill. And the voices above her weren't battle cries, it was Thorin telling someone to get back from the edge.

"Do you have any rope?" Víriel asked.

"Why would we pack rope?" Dwalin asked.

"In case one of you dumbasses falls down a cliff."

Bilbo sighed and stood up. "Well, since we don't have rope, we'll just have to find another way back up. We'll try to find a path or somewhere we can climb."

"Start heading downstream," Thorin replied. "We'll try and meet up with you."

"All right." Bilbo knelt back down. "Holly, are you…"

She stopped checking her left hand for blood and looked up. She focused on the lines of his face, the familiar figure bringing a semblance of comfort to her. "We need to get out of here."

"Right." He stood up, brushing the dirt of his jacket. "Let's go."

Holly pushed herself to her feet and her eyes found the bottom of the valley, which was quite a distance away. "Oh…"

"Come on. Just stay away from the edge." Bilbo began climbing down an uneven path that led to a wider ledge below.

Holly had no choice but to follow.

It took them the better part of an hour to reach the bottom of the valley, utilizing a series of slopes that had them sliding more often than climbing. When they reached the bottom, Holly set her pack down. She took her waterskin out and sat down to refill it. Bilbo pulled out his own waterskin and followed suit.

She watched the river flow over her hand, soaking the edge of her sleeve. The consistent, undulating current helped calm her nerves and even her breathing. For a while, she let the rush of the water swell and fill the silence between them.

"Did you learn how to swim yet?"

Bilbo sucked in a breath and for a moment she didn't think he would answer. "What are you doing?"

Holly withdrew her waterskin and closed it. "I'm talking to you. Trying to make conversation." She endured a few more seconds of silence, then said, "Your turn to say something."

He looked her in the eye, mouth drawn into a flat line. "What do you want me to say, then?"

"It looks like you've got quite a few things on your mind," she replied. "Just please say whatever you want. I know you're angry with me."

"Yes, I am." Bilbo stood up and closed his waterskin.

" _Tell me_ , then. Why are you angry?" Holly stood as well and walked around him so he was facing her. "Let me fix this."

"You can't fix this," Bilbo said, trying to walk around her. "What you did is already done."

"Then what should I have done? _Please_ , at least give me that."

"You shouldn't have left! And you shouldn't have lied to me."

Holly tried not to flinch when he raised his voice. "All right. Anything else?"

"You should have done something to let me know you were alive."

"I did. Sort of. I wrote you a note."

Bilbo looked up, eyebrows drawn together. "You did?"

"I took it with me, though. I didn't want to leave anything behind."

"You left me behind." When she didn't answer, he continued, "One word, Holly. That's all I would have needed. Why didn't you—"

"Because I'd gone _fucking_ mad!" The words tore themselves from her throat. For a moment, the irrational anger radiating in her words scared her, but it seemed as though a logical explanation wouldn't work with him. "I don't know how else to explain it. You know, better than anyone—I didn't know what day it was, or the last time I had eaten, I didn't even know if I was locked in my bedroom or trapped back on Ravenhill being violated in ways you can't _possibly_ imagine. I was missing my mind, half my soul, and everything else that made me human before. I was dead weight." Holly let out a crooked laugh. "Perhaps I still am, in a way. And _that_ is why I didn't tell you where I'd gone. Because you knew I was dead weight. I could see it in your eyes. It was one of the only things I was sure of. We were both better off with me gone. And I didn't intend to come back at all. I'm beginning to think I never should have."

She took a deep breath and unclenched her fists. But her fingers were shaking so she pressed them against her sides.

"Yes, all right, I admit it was hard taking care of you at times," Bilbo said, his voice shaking a bit as well. "But I wasn't about to give up on you. I would have found a way to help you, but you didn't give me that chance."

"You think I was just going to wait around for some magical cure to fix me?"

"You left after _two weeks_!"

"And you think it would have been better if I'd waited two years?"

"Well, you seem to be doing fine right now."

"I am _functioning_ ," Holly replied. "Don't ever think that I am cured. Which, by the way, can't be achieved by hoping for a better future or whatever crazy fantasy you've deluded yourself into believing. May I remind you that _I_ was the one who found a solution for Thorin, and you—"

" _Don't_ bring Thorin into this."

Holly looked away as something bitter twisted in her heart. She didn't see a way out of this argument. She was angry and hurt and as much as she cared about Bilbo he simply could not comprehend what she was trying to express. There was no other way that she could think of to gain his forgiveness.

"Well, speaking of Thorin, he's probably still looking for us. So we should get going." She snatched her pack up and continued along the river.

Bilbo followed without another word.

Further down, the river swelled over part of the bank, leaving a stretch of water between their piece of dry land and the next.

"Watch your step," Holly said, noting several pieces of splintered wood sticking up from the sputtering water, likely from a fallen tree. "And try not to drown."

She was nearly at the other side when she heard a splash followed by Bilbo's gasp. He winced but was able to stand again, and for a moment Holly thought everything was fine. Then she saw a cloud of red billow out in the water near where he'd fallen.

"You're hurt." Holly splashed her way out to where he stood.

"I'm fine. Just slipped," Bilbo said, then his gaze fell to where blood was soaking through the leg of his trousers. "Oh."

Holly reached him in time to catch his arm as he half-stumbled, and guided him toward the bank. She considered being irritated at his clumsiness but that dissolved into panic as she caught sight of just how much he was bleeding. " _Dammit_."

It must have been one of the branches. The cut to his thigh was deep, and bleeding more than she was comfortable with.

She dug a rag from her pack and pressed it against the cut. Bilbo cried out and jerked his leg away involuntarily, but she tried to hold him steady.

"Be still. I'm trying to save your life."

"Sorry." The momentary shock seemed to have worn off and he was breathing heavily, brow furrowed in pain.

Holly hissed through her teeth in frustration, glancing back toward her pack. They'd divided the supplies fairly evenly, in case they were split up (case in point), but Thorin had all the more advanced medical supplies, including sutures.

"How bad is it?" Bilbo's voice broke her from her thoughts.

"Bad," she replied, deciding honesty was the wisest choice. "You're fortunate it wasn't on the inside of your leg, though. In that case you'd be dead in a couple minutes."

"Have you _ever_ heard of bedside manner?"

She ignored him and grabbed some bandages from her pack, wrapping his leg as tight as she could. "I'm most concerned about infection from the wood splinters. We need to get you back to the others, and have this cleaned and stitched up. Can you walk? Stupid question, you're going to have to." She grabbed his arm and pulled it around her shoulders, struggling to help him to his feet.

By the time they were both standing, Bilbo was panting, sweat mingling with the river water on his forehead.

There was the possibility they wouldn't reach the others in time, and Bilbo would bleed out and die. There was the possibility that this would be the last time she would talk to him.

Holly shook herself from her thoughts. She couldn't afford to spiral into a series of worst-case scenarios, not when there was also the possibility she could save him.

They moved at an agonizingly slow pace. And try as she might, Holly couldn't loosen the tension constricting in her chest, nor clear the fog of worry that was clouding her mind. She didn't deserve to dwell on her pain—she wasn't the one with red-soaked bandages wrapped around her leg. She wasn't the one who had been left behind.

"I'm not leaving again," Holly said out loud, though she wasn't sure which one of them her statement was meant to reassure.

Bilbo only nodded in response, which made it a little harder to breathe for her. If he didn't have the strength or awareness to speak, that could only mean bad news.

Bad news turned to worse as he stumbled and fell to his knees, letting out a groan of pain.

"No, no, no. Get up." Holly dropped to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate attempt to hold him up, but she froze as a flash nearby caught her eye.

A few feet, silhouetted in the hazy sunlight, were two figures. Holly blinked against another bright flash, and focused her gaze on the man's hand. Strong fingers were wrapped around the hilt of a sword, and its metal glinted again.

 _Not again. Not like last time._ Holly vowed to herself that she would get the two of them out of this chasm, alive and together, and if these men tried to stop her, they would most certainly not survive the encounter.

 **Here I am, back with more cliffhangers and suffering! :))) I could come up with a whole list of excuses as to why I disappeared again, but I think I can just sum it all up with two words: college applications.**

 **In regards to the actual fic, I was going to have Holly and Bilbo make up in this scene, but they never listen to what I tell them to do so I decided to have this happen instead. I'm also really curious about what your opinions are on their conflict. Do you think Bilbo is justified in his anger? Does Holly even deserve forgiveness? Let me know in the comments, and as always I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'll try to update soon.**


	8. What We Do

**Chapter 8: What We Do**

Holly lowered Bilbo to the ground and unsheathed his sword, holding it level with her chest. She would attack the taller one first—he was the only one armed, and therefore more of a threat.

Before she could move, the shorter one stepped forward, holding out his hands in surrender. "Wait! We mean you no harm. Alistair, put your sword away."

Alistair did as he was asked. He reminded her a bit of Dwalin, with his bald head, beard, and muscular, tattooed arms.

Holly didn't lower her sword, and in return the shorter man kept his arms out. He gestured with his chin to where Bilbo was lying on the ground. "Your friend—he's injured, yes?"

She glared. "Obviously."

"I can heal him."

"Why?"

Alistair narrowed his eyes at the question, but his companion replied, "Because all life is valuable."

Something about the way he said it—perhaps it was the conviction in his voice, or the strong hearted optimism that reminded her of the way Kili spoke when they were in a tight situation—cleared some of the distrust from her mind. Bilbo was bleeding out, and she'd just been handed a solution. And she'd be damned if her paranoia prevented someone from saving his life.

Holly lowered her sword. "He was cut on a piece of wood. There might still be splinters inside the wound."

The man nodded and knelt beside Bilbo, undoing the bandages on his leg. "I'll take care of that."

"If you hurt him, you _will_ regret it."

Alistair moved to stand closer, observing as his companion inspected the wound. "Calm down. Léonere knows what he's doing."

Holly ignored him and knelt at Bilbo's other side. Léonere took a deep breath and placed both hands a few inches above the wound.

"You're a mage?" Holly asked

"Yes. And a talented one. Your friend will be fine." Léonere closed his eyes and Holly could feel the telltale tingle in the air that preceded a spell.

She watched with wide eyes as a few slivers of wood worked their way out of the torn flesh in Bilbo's leg. They hovered for a moment, then dropped into the sand, and the mage let out a breath, a sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. That sort of precision required years of skill and quite a bit of talent, judging by his young age.

Bilbo winced and his eyes fluttered open. "Wh...Holly?"

"I'm here." Before she could stop herself, she clasped one of his hands in hers. "Just be still, all right?"

" _Gala mîwan faun ostri_." Léonere closed his eyes once more began repeating the incantation.

Bilbo started and tightened his grip on Holly's hand. "My leg's gone numb."

"That's typical of a healing spell," she said, speaking softly. It wouldn't do him any good if she interrupted Léonere's concentration.

After a few minutes, the mage stopped and sat back on his heels, panting slightly.

Alistair put a hand on his shoulder. "All right?"

Léonere nodded and allowed the other man to help him to his feet.

The spell must have sapped most of his energy. And though that didn't mean she trusted him, Holly had a bit more respect for him.

She inspected Bilbo's wound. The skin had closed up completely—it probably wouldn't even scar. She helped Bilbo sit up.

"You saved my life," he said to Léonere. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, ears turning a bit pink.

Holly shot a stiff but grateful smile at him and turned to help Bilbo stand up. "Don't be ridiculous," she said when he tried to shrug her off. "You've lost quite a bit of blood. Not even a healing spell could replenish that."

"You're a mage?" Léonere asked.

"Yes," she replied, then wondered if she should have volunteered that information. "We need to get back to the top of the valley." It wouldn't be easy, given Bilbo's weakened state, but she wanted to get back to her friends, where they would be safe.

"We're headed that way ourselves," Alistair said, and gestured for them to follow. "There's a path further downstream."

"You forded the river, then?" Bilbo asked. "We saw you earlier, on the other side."

"We've been trying to find a way across for most of the day," Léonere replied. "Though it's fortunate we ended up crossing when we did."

It took them quite a bit of time to make their way out of the valley, since they had to stop a few times for Bilbo to rest. When they finally reached the top, Holly spotted the rest of the group a ways upstream. She managed to signal them with the arm that wasn't supporting Bilbo.

"These are your companions?" Léonere asked as the group approached, though his voice conveyed more curiosity than contempt.

"Yes." Holly shifted her gaze from the other mage to Thorin, and then back again.

"Are you all right?" Thorin asked Bilbo, taking in the pallor of his skin and the arm around Holly's shoulders.

"I'm fine." He disentangled himself from her. "I cut myself, but Léonere healed me," he said with a grateful nod in the mage's direction. "He saved my life."

Thorin was silent for a moment, clearly sizing up the two newcomers. "I'm grateful for your assistance," he said.

"Of course, " Léonere replied. "This is my companion, Alistair." The taller man nodded.

"Where are you traveling?" Thorin asked.

"Further down the river," Léonere said.

"Towards Rhûn?"

"No, our destination is by the river," Léonere said. "We're looking for a tomb a few miles from here."

Holly had to commend Thorin, for he gave nothing away in his expression. "I didn't know there were men buried along the river."

"It's not to pay our respects, I assure you," Léonere said. "We're searching for an artifact within the tomb."

Holly sent a half-panicked glance at Thorin. He met her gaze and shook his head slightly. _Say nothing._

"We are traveling in the same direction," Thorin said, turning back to the two men. She could tell he was choosing his words carefully, though he spoke with confidence. "Perhaps we should travel together for the time being."

Alistair and Léonere exchanged looks, then turned back to Thorin. "We're agreeable to that," Alistair said.

Holly started at a sudden pressure on her shoulder. She turned to see Bilbo supporting himself with one hand.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "A bit dizzy."

"You've lost a lot of blood. You should rest."

Thorin seemed to have noticed this and made the command for them to make camp for a few hours. Holly started to walk away, but Bilbo took hold of her wrist.

"Will you sit with me for a while?"

"All right." She sat next to him, eyes fixed on her knees as she tried to think of something to say. Life-or-death situations had a way of diminishing conflict, though she wasn't sure how effective that would be in this case.

Bilbo took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "Look, I said some things that I shouldn't have, back there."

"So did I. It's what we do."

"I suppose it is," Bilbo replied with a wry half-smile.

But before, they had always managed to resolve their quarrels. Holly wasn't ready to give up on that just yet. "Listen, I just have one more thing to say on the matter, and then I promise I won't speak of it again." She spoke quickly, afraid that, even though he had asked to talk with her, he would still walk away if she didn't get her thoughts out in time. "I know I made mistakes. And I know I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious person you've ever had the misfortune of meeting. But all I have ever wanted was for you to be happy. Perhaps I should have left that up to your judgement, and that is my mistake. And I am so sorry for all the hurt I've caused you." When he didn't respond, she added, "You don't have to say anything."

Bilbo held up a hand. "My turn to talk."

Holly pressed her mouth into a flat line and nodded.

"I was angry with you for a long time. You lied, and then you got sick, and I was convinced that I would be able to help you. I think a part of me was angry at myself for not being able to. But I don't want to be angry about something in the past. Especially since we—we might not have a lot of time left."

She knew what he meant. The world was dangerous and today had proven that any of their lives could be cut short at a moment's notice.

"Before I met you and Thorin and everyone else, I was alone. And I owe you so much for making my life what it is now. Of course I forgive you."

Holly blinked. "Really?"

Bilbo smiled, for real this time. "Yes, really."

She didn't know how to put into words what she was feeling, so she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She didn't care if their legs knocked together awkwardly. She hadn't been this close to him in years.

She squeezed her eyes shut as Bilbo hugged her back, and for the first time in months, she let the tension in her shoulders fall away.

* * *

Thorin was beginning to wonder when their covert mission to retrieve an ancient artifact had turned into a traveling circus. It had been their best option to let the two men join their group, but their presence still set him on edge. They didn't seem to have any ill intent, but he'd known plenty of men in his life who were generous and trustworthy until they didn't have to be anymore.

Then again, the young mage, Léonere, had saved Bilbo's life. He owed him for that, at least until he gave him a reason not to.

Speaking of the hobbit, the incident had worried him more than he liked to admit. Bilbo could take care of himself—he had proven that on more than one occasion. But it had only taken a moment for his life to fall into danger. If the mage hadn't been there, Bilbo would have died.

It was a harsh reminder of the brevity of life.

He was almost finished checking the perimeter of their camp, scanning the valley and the surrounding fields for any unwanted visitors. There had been few signs of orc packs since their numbers had been decimated in the battle, but it was an old habit he didn't want to break.

Once he was satisfied, he took a seat in front of their campfire with Bilbo, Dwalin, and Nori. The two strangers had kept to themselves since they'd stopped to rest, and Holly was a little ways off talking with the ranger.

"We'll be at the forest within the next week," Thorin said, pulling out his map. "Then we can start searching for the tomb."

"And what do we do with them?" Dwalin jerked his head in the direction of the two men.

"Make 'em walk in first," Nori said, gaze focused on the knife he was sharpening. When Dwalin raised an eyebrow, he clarified, "Wouldn't want my back exposed to two strangers, especially not in a creepy tomb."

"Holly claimed they don't want to take it for themselves," Thorin said.

"Doubtful," Dwalin replied.

"She's usually good at reading people," Bilbo said. "Even if she is a terrible liar herself."

"For what other reason would they want this chalice, then?" Dwalin asked.

"They might be in the same situation as us," Bilbo replied. "One of them might be sick and needs to be healed."

"Whatever their reason is, I doubt they'd share it with us willingly," Thorin said. "We accept their help for now, and make sure we get what we need without their interference."

Dwalin sat back, satisfied with this, and Bilbo shrugged his shoulders.

"I still say we let them walk in first," Nori said. "Who knows? The tomb might be trapped."

"Trapped?" Dwalin scoffed. "Where'd you get an idea like that?"

Nori pointed his knife at him. "I know if I died and left something valuable behind, I wouldn't want anyone coming in and stealing it."

"Do we even know who's buried in that tomb?" Bilbo asked.

"Holly seems to have failed to mention that," Thorin said.

"Some mage, if I had to guess," Nori said.

"Perhaps he's enchanted his tomb," Dwalin said. "We might have to watch out for ghosts." Nori reached over and flicked his ear.

Thorin smirked at their antics and turned to Bilbo. "How's your leg?"

"It's completely healed. You don't have to worry about me."

Thorin nodded. That was true, but it didn't make much of a difference in how he felt.

"Why did you let them join our group?" Bilbo asked. "You were far more reluctant about letting Víriel come with us. What makes this time different?"

"We would have crossed paths eventually. I'd rather have them where I can watch them."

"I see. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer."

"They're not our enemies yet. But it's important to stay vigilant."

Bilbo tilted his head. "You're good at this. Being a leader, I mean."

Thorin smiled. "Believe me when I say it comes from experience."

The hobbit leaned back on his hands. "You never told me much about all those years after Erebor fell, before you settled in the Blue Mountains."

"It's not easy to talk about."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Thorin rested one hand over Bilbo's smaller one. "Don't apologize. Someday I'll tell you about it." He took his hand away. "For now we should stay focused."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows, recognizing his withdrawal. "You're right. Sleep well, Thorin."

* * *

Holly felt dry grass scratch her cheek as she fell, landing hard on her elbow.

"Don't just lie there. If you fall, use your momentum to roll back on your feet."

She nodded at Dwalin and gripped her sword, pushing herself up. Though she had never been on exactly friendly terms with him, he spoke less harshly to her during their lessons. And coming from Dwalin, that was basically a warm hug, so she assumed that was all the forgiveness she would get from him. She would take what she could get.

Holly wiped her forehead with her sleeve and took her stance again. She could stay on her feet for a full minute now. That, and the soreness in her muscles, led her to believe that she was improving somewhat.

She took the offensive, thrusting her sword at Dwalin's chest. He sidestepped and moved behind her, ramming the butt of his sword into her shoulder. She stumbled, but took his advice and turned her fall into a roll so she could push herself back up.

"You're putting too much force into your attacks. Conserve your energy."

Holly nodded and readied herself to attack again. She hesitated as Dwalin turned his head and glared.

"Problem?"

Alistair was standing off to the side, arms crossed. He shrugged at Dwalin's' question and turned to Holly. "Aren't you a little young to be using a sword?"

She sighed, drawing from her rather limited reserve of patience. "How old do you think I am?"

Alistair hesitated, likely sensing that he was entering dangerous territory. "Young, I suppose."

"You're not that young, are you?" Léonere asked from beside Alistair. "I just assumed you were short."

Holly stared at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied. "You're just smarter than you look." She turned back to Alistair. "Why don't you come and spar with me? I'll try not to kill you." She turned to Dwalin. "It would make sense to train with more than one fighting style, yes?"

Dwalin nodded and stepped to the side.

Alistair shrugged and stood up, drawing his own sword.

Holly took her stance, studying the man. He was a good deal taller than Dwalin, but just about as bulky. He had a longer reach, which meant she would have to move further when she dodged. But their difference in height would give her a slight advantage since it would make it easier for her to duck beneath his blows.

"Ready?" Alistair asked.

She lifted her chin in response. "Obviously."

After another moment of hesitation, he swung ather with a downward strike. She sidestepped to his left, putting the rest of his body between her and his sword arm. Now that she'd gotten used to the adrenaline rush of combat and had developed a bit more muscle, it was easier to strategize during a fight.

Holly thrust her sword at Alistair's chest, but he parried the blow and delivered another downward strike. This time she wasn't fast enough to dodge and held up her sword to block his. She nearly dropped her sword as pain rattled down her arm at the force of the blow. She let out a gasp and stepped back, flexing her wrist and readjusting her grip on her sword.

Alistair had the decency to look concerned. "Did I hurt you?"

She wasted no time in stepping forward and striking again. He parried her blow again, but she took advantage of the distraction to kick him in the shin as hard as he could. Alistair let out a grunt of pain and took a step back.

Holly grinned. She couldn't play on the sympathy of real enemies, but there was no harm in seeking an advantage where she could.

"All right. Not bad," Alistair said, shifting his grip on his sword so the tip was facing down.

"Done already?" Holly kept grinning but shifted her sword in the same manner. No use poking a bear with a stick, especially if said bear had likely been going easy on her in the first place.

"I'm afraid so." He held out a hand. "Let me have a look at your sword."

"I'm just borrowing it," she replied, but handed it over anyway. "You're a blacksmith, aren't you?"

"How did you know that?"

"Well, you've got rather pale skin but your hands are calloused, meaning you work with your hands but you don't work outside. Now, that could also apply to a carpenter, miner, or shoemaker but your clothes are finely made so clearly you make a decent amount of money. That rules out miner. You've also got a decent amount of upper body strength which leads me to believe you handle large tools, so that rules out shoemaker. Finally, your callouses are more pronounced on your palms instead of your fingertips. If you worked with your bare hands you would have equally pronounced callouses on both areas, but since you work in a forge you wear gloves, and the callouses form due to friction with the material, which doesn't happen as much with fingers. That rules out a carpenter. Conclusion—you're a blacksmith. Or you were. Something tells me you quit your job if you're all the way out here."

Holly allowed herself a small smirk at the man's dumbfounded expression.

"Well, you're right," Alistair said.

"Of course I'm right," Holly said.

Léonere appeared beside him. The two men never strayed far from each other, she noted, even for close companions. "How did you do that?"

"I eliminate the impossible, as I did in my explanation, and whatever is left must be true."

"Clever," Alistair said, handing the sword back.

"So it has nothing to do with magical enhancement?" Léonere asked.

"There he goes again." Alistair rolled his eyes and walked away, though he was smiling as he did so.

Holly shot a questioning glance at the man's retreating back, though she decided not to pursue the inquiry. "No, it has nothing to do with magic—just pure logic. It's a far more reliable means of achieving one's goal, though magic does have its benefits."

Léonere eyed the weapon in her hand. "If you're a mage, then why are you learning how to use a sword?" Léonere asked.

"I want to be able to defend myself in multiple ways."

"If you become skilled enough, you wouldn't need a sword."

"Not necessarily. There are certain factors that could inhibit my magical ability entirely. Most animal fats, for example, could disable even a skilled mage if applied at a high concentration."

"Oh." Léonere tilted his head. "I didn't know that."

Holly smiled. "I think we could learn quite a bit from each other." It would provide an opportunity to discover how capable he was. There was that, but she also felt a nostalgic urge to learn for the sake of learning.

She'd missed that feeling.

* * *

After another week of traveling, their destination came into sight. The forest was a welcoming change after miles of flat land.

Holly surveyed the area. She didn't know what to do from here. Her main goal in coming up with the plan had been to make herself useful and needed. That didn't seem to be much of a priority anymore, which left her with a patch of unfamiliar terrain and an expectant group.

She straightened as Thorin fell into step beside her.

"We should be on the lookout for any form of natural elevation. It's more likely the tomb would be there, since a hillside would be easier to dig into," she said. At least that was a start.

"I know," Thorin said.

Of course he knew. He was a dwarf.

"It'll likely be further into the forest, rather than the outskirts," Holly pressed on. "Easier to hide that way." When Thorin said nothing, she let out a short breath. "I'm not stupid. I wouldn't have led you all out here if it was a dead end."

"And yet, despite your analysis, you have no idea where to proceed from here."

"You chose to come here," Holly said, turning and searching his face with sharp eyes. "You're just as uncertain as I am, yet you left your kingdom on my word alone anyway."

"What are you trying to imply?" There was no trace of anger in Thorin's voice, but his eyes were still guarded as he met her gaze.

Holly remained silent for a moment, considering his question. Neither of them quite understood the other. Perhaps they never would. "Nothing," she said after a minute. "I get caught up in contradicting people sometimes. Bad habit, I'm afraid."

* * *

Léonere stepped around a small, moss-covered boulder and surveyed the group they were traveling with. The dark-haired dwarf, Thorin, was clearly their leader, which he had established that shortly after he and Alistair had joined the group.

It was certainly a strange crowd. The three dwarves were typical in their aloofness, yet they accepted the halfling as though he was one of their own. They acted less so towards the two women in the group, yet the short one, Holly, had some sort of connection with them. The ranger Víriel had apparently joined shortly before they had, and was just as much of a stranger as they were.

Léonere pushed a low-hanging branch out of the way and fell into step next to Holly. "So, how long have you been practicing magic?"

She looked up with her eyebrows raised, as though surprised that he was talking to her. "About a year and a half." She paused for a moment, then said, "And you?"

"Six years." Saying it left a glow of pride in his chest. He'd come a long way since he started. "I was part of a guild of mages for most of that time, but I left them to learn more in the east."

Holly tilted her head. "A guild? I didn't know there were enough mages to form congregations."

"There must be at least a hundred out there, as far as I know."

"They've all appeared so suddenly, though."

"I'd have to disagree. This whole movement has been growing for over a decade."

"Oh?"

Léonere nodded. "It all started when a couple of mages uncovered a tomb in the Barrow Downs. They found nearly a hundred tomes on magic, maps, and other artifacts and magical weapons. Soon they'd amassed a following—men and women who sought wealth or knowledge."

"And what are you looking for, in studying magic?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Knowledge, I suppose. I've always liked learning new things."

"Is that why you're looking for the artifact, in the tomb?"

Léonere nodded again. "Apparently it has healing properties beyond what anyone's ever seen. If I can study it, perhaps I can find new ways to help people that are sick and injured."

Holly was silent for a moment, as though considering his response. Finally, she said, "So I assume the movement you mentioned has all been concentrated in the northwest."

"Yes, for the most part."

"That explains it. I lived in Minas Tirith for most of the past decade. They allow the study of magic, which I did quite a bit of, but they're very strict about who practices it." She turned and looked up at him. "Do you think you could teach me a few spells?"

"Of course. And perhaps you can share with me some of the magical theory you've read."

"All right." For the first time since he'd met her, Holly's eyes lit up and some of the worry on her brow seemed to disappear.

"Perhaps the people of Minas Tirith will be more open-minded once mages begin traveling east. I haven't seen many on this side of the Misty Mountains besides you and myself."

"You know, I actually did see a dark mage north of here over twenty years ago."

Léonere turned to her and raised his eyebrows. "You must have been very young."

"Well, I didn't see him in person, of course," Holly said, averting her eyes. "Just heard stories."

"What makes dark magic so bad, anyway?" Bilbo asked, falling into step beside them. "I mean, the name sort of gives it away, but there has to be more to it."

"Dark magic actually seems like the better option, which is why some people use it in the first place," Léonere said. "It's easier to cast nonverbal or more complex spells, and the spells themselves tend to be more potent."

"But power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely," Holly said. "People who use dark magic tend to fall into more chaotic mindsets. They lose their grasp on their sense of morality and law and usually follow base emotions like love, jealousy, desire for power, and so on. Which is why some dark mages become completely insane."

She and Bilbo shared a meaningful look that Léonere couldn't quite decipher.

"I came across a man like that once," he said. "A necromancer, trying to use corpses as a source of labor. There weren't enough people in his settlement able to work the crops, and the people were hungry." The image still made him shudder. "I suppose he meant to do good for his people, but the the way he went about it…"

"Clearly wasn't his first time dabbling in dark magic, if he was that crazy to think it was a viable solution," Holly finished. "That, or he was just stupid."

Léonere huffed out a laugh. "You're very quick to judgement."

She turned her gaze up, towards him. " _Accurate_ judgement, I might add." She had the disconcerting ability to make it seem as though she was peering inside him, and could see the inner workings of his mind.

When he didn't immediately respond, Holly asked, "Could you tell me about the healing spell you used on Bilbo? I'm not too experienced in magics outside of offensive spells."

"Of course. The spell I used was very basic. It's a bit...you know how skin, when injured, will sort of grow back together?"

Holly nodded.

"This spell basically speeds up that growing process. That's why you never want to attempt it on an infected wound. It would heal the wound, but it would also speed up the infection and would probably kill the patient."

She nodded again.

"It also saps a huge amount of energy from the caster. I've been practicing that one for years and it still tires me out."

"Wouldn't be useful in healing large groups of people, then."

"Why would you have to do that?"

Holly gave him an incredulous look while Bilbo said, "She's referencing the battle that took place a couple years ago."

Léonere nodded, eyes widening in understanding. "Ah, the Battle of the Five Armies. I've heard of it."

"We were both there. Many of the soldiers were injured and there were barely enough hands afterward to patch everyone up."

"That must have been...terrible. I can't imagine it." He had been far away from the conflict at the time, but the thought of so much death in one day turned his stomach. "I believe iron weapons should all be left in the past. There's been enough bloodshed in the history of Middle Earth. It's time we heal from the scars we have, without creating new ones."

"And you think magic will accomplish that?" Holly asked.

Léonere nodded. "I think it's a good place to start."

She made a humming sound and tilted her head.

"You disagree?"

"Violently so. I think your approach is idealistic and naive. Men are far too fond of bloodshed to ever agree to lay down their weapons. I think you'll find that many people see physical violence as the most effective way to solve problems."

The three of them looked up as a figure stepped into the shadows in front of them. The group stopped, several hands flying to their respective weapons. Holly shot a quick glance at Léonere as if to say, _I told you so_.

"Relax, it's me," Víriel said, stepping into the light where they could see her better.

"Where did you go?" Thorin asked.

"To look ahead. You were all going too slow. Anyway…" She pointed north. "I found the tomb. It's that way."

 **What happened? I thought given last chapter's cliffhanger I would have seen at least one review. But thanks to the user who favorited and followed. Welcome to the suffering party that is this fic.**

 **Anyway, now we have two more members of the gang! I'm going to have lots and lots of fun with the two of them, especially Leonere. I've given him some scenes in his POV because he's going to play a pretty major part in some later events, in ways that have yet to be foreseen…**

 **Next chapter we'll enter the tomb and Holly will figure out something that's been staring her in the face since Chapter 2. Can you guys guess what it is? I'm surprised no one has made the connection yet.**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading, even if you don't review I appreciate your time and hope you get something out of his fic, whatever it may be. But please feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought. It helps me out a lot. Until next time!**


	9. The Eye and the Chalice

**Chapter 9: The Eye and the Chalice**

As the group began following Víriel, Holly ran to catch up with her.

"Who told you we were looking for a tomb?" she asked.

"Well, you just did," Víriel replied. "I'm not stupid, you know. You've talked to Thorin about it before. And I saw the look on your face when Léonere mentioned it."

Holly glanced up at her, unsure how to feel about her statement. It was one thing to sustain friendly conversation and let Víriel braid her hair, but it didn't feel right to invest her trust in her so soon after they'd met.

"It's not my place to tell you what we're looking for," she said. "There's a reason for that."

"I know," Víriel said, glancing back at Thorin. "But if you do tell me, I can help you find it."

"Right." Holly was struggling to keep up with her. Damn those long legs. "Like I said, it's not my place."

Instead of continuing the subject, Víriel stepped over a fallen log and said, "It's over here."

The tomb was little more than a stone-framed opening in the side of a hill. A set of stairs extended downwards, wide enough for two men to walk side by side if they didn't mind their shoulders brushing. Everything beyond that was shrouded in darkness.

Holly walked over to the entrance, brushing her fingertips along the markings on the doorway. She could tell from the shapes that it was an elvish dialect, but the characters were too faded to discern anything beyond that.

The tall grass behind her rustled and she turned to see Léonere standing there.

"Can you read these?" she asked.

"No." He moved beside her to study the markings. "Why didn't you say you were also looking for the tomb?"

"You're _relatively_ smart. Why do you think I didn't tell you?"

"You don't trust me?"

"Of course I don't. Come here." Holly motioned to him, and he knelt down so they were roughly at eye level. "I may give you my trust in time, but remember this: if you try to harm or kill any of my friends, I will kill you. And I will kill your friend." She held his gaze until his eyes shifted away.

Léonere gave a small, hesitant laugh. "I'm not sure how seriously I should take a threat from a woman half my height."

"If you want to test the validity of my claim, you're welcome to try. And if you have concerns about how tall I am, keep in mind that there are plenty of places below the belt where I can strike."

Holly pushed past him and walked back to where the rest of the group stood.

"We don't know what we're going to find down there, so stay on your guard," Thorin was saying to the others. "We find what we need and leave immediately after." He locked eyes with Holly as she approached. "Do you know anything else about this tomb?"

"Nothing specific," she replied. "It'll most likely be trapped, so we should watch out for pressure plates and the like."

"I told you so," Nori said to Dwalin.

"The object we seek is likely the most valuable item in the tomb," she continued, ignoring him. "So it'll be farthest away from the entrance, but probably in a central area."

Thorin nodded. "You lead the way, then. Along with them." He gestured to where Alistair and Léonere were standing side by side.

"All right." Holly walked back to the entrance of the tomb, gazing down into the darkness. "Do you know any spells for casting light?" she asked Léonere.

"A couple." He descended the first few steps, Alistair following close behind, and held his hand out, palm up. " _Gal mîwe cornen_." A small sphere of light flickered to life just above his fingertips, illuminating the walls of the entrance with a pale blue light.

It also revealed scorch marks stretching along the stone, and the chunks of rubble scattered along the edges of the staircase.

"Someone was here before us," Holly said. "They must have blasted the door open."

"You think they're still in there?" Alistair asked.

"We'll find out." She made eye contact with Léonere and gestured with her chin. "You first. You've got the light."

Léonere gave her one last unreadable glance, then continued onward into the darkness. The others followed, into the dust and darkness that waited beyond the stretching beams of sunlight.

* * *

The air in the tomb was stuffy and stale, having not been stirred in centuries. Bilbo kept his eyes on his feet, watching out for rubble and missing steps as they descended the staircase.

A few minutes later, they reached the bottom, where the tomb opened up into a wider room.

"Well, I don't think we'll have to worry about the people that came before us," Alistair said.

Bilbo stepped around Dwalin so he could see what Alistair was referring to. There were about a dozen bodies scattered on the floor, all decayed to skeletons. Most of them were holding rusted weapons and a few wore partial plate armor.

"They must have killed each other over the contents of the tomb," Holly said, bending down to examine one of the bodies.

Even in the strange-colored light, Bilbo could see that she was pale and sweating a bit, though it wasn't hot in the tomb. He walked over and touched her arm as she stood back up. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"This place makes me sick. There's not enough room. If something happens, we'll all be tripping over each other instead of defending ourselves." She lowered her voice even further, so he could barely hear her next sentence. "I don't want to get trapped down here."

Holly was right. It was far too crowded in the narrow space of the tomb. They wouldn't be ready if something surprised them.

"I'll scout ahead," he said to the rest of the group. "If there's anything waiting to surprise us, I'll report back and warn the rest of you."

"We should stay together, as a group," Thorin said.

"I'm faster on my own. And if I run into something, I don't want the rest of you blocking me from behind."

"And you'll be able to avoid the traps?" Nori asked.

"Don't worry." Bilbo crossed the room, headed for the entrance to the next hallway. "I'll be fi…" He trailed off as the stone block beneath his feet grated and sunk a few inches. A metallic screech sounded from the wall to his left, and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for something to chop his head off. After realizing he was still alive, he opened his eyes and looked over.

"Hm." Holly walked over to the wall and gazed at a small slit between two stone bricks. "The mechanism must have worn out. The blade probably rusted away." She threw him a look over her shoulder. "Let's hope that's the case for the rest of the tomb."

"Right." Bilbo set off down the hallway, watching his steps as he went.

Once he was far enough out of the light Léonere had cast, he paused for a moment and slipped his ring out of his pocket. He put it on and the low, familiar hissing in his ear returned. Bilbo ignored it, continuing on with renewed confidence. With the ring on, he felt a bit invincible.

It was a feeling well-founded, since he encountered no more traps in the hallway. Though it was completely dark, he had a vague sense of where he was going. It was as though he could feel the energy of the stone structure around him, and the air running through it. For a moment he wondered what else the ring was capable of.

The strange pull he felt when he put on the ring had returned, but this time it seemed to be beckoning him out of the tomb. Whatever lay at the back of it, the ring seemed to want him away from it.

But that was silly, Bilbo reminded himself. There was no way a ring could _want_ anything.

At the end of the hallway was an intersection with four paths—one straight across, two to the left and right, and the one he'd just come from. Following Holly's advice, he took the central route.

He'd only just entered the hallway when panting and footsteps sounded from back the way he'd come, accompanied by a bobbing light. Bilbo managed to yank the ring off his finger (with far more effort than he was comfortable with) just as Léonere came into sight.

"What's going on? Where are the others?" Bilbo asked.

"Further down the hallway," Léonere said, coming to a halt a few feet away. "The dead people, from the bottom of the staircase? They got up and started attacking us."

"Oh, no." He took a couple steps forward, his heartbeat picking up. "We need to get back there."

"All right." Léonere turned to go, then froze as they both heard an audible click as the brick beneath his feet grated downwards.

A long shape seemed to leap from the walls, swinging outward and right into Léonere's stiff form. As it passed, Bilbo realized it was the broken handle of an axe. If the blade had still been attached, it would have cut him in half. As it was, the handle still managed to catch his torso, right below his ribs. He saw a spray of blood spatter against the floor, then the light in Léonere's hand went out.

Bilbo cursed and ran over to him, wincing at the sticky blood beneath his feet. "Léonere? Are you all right? How bad is it?"

He heard a thud on the stone, as though Léonere's knees had hit the ground, and then a gasp of pain. At least he was still breathing.

"I'm—ah." Léonere hissed through his teeth. "Bleeding a lot. Also hurts."

Bilbo knelt down next to him, trying in vain to see the wound in the oppressive darkness. "P-Put pressure on it, that'll slow the bleeding." He couldn't dress the wound if he couldn't see what he was doing. The others were fighting off undead monsters, and wouldn't be able to help. "Can you, uh, do a healing spell on yourself?"

Léonere laughed, though it came out as more of a cough. "Doesn't work like that."

"Of course it doesn't."

If Holly were here, she would have known what to do. _Come on, Baggins, use your head._ Then he remembered the reason they were in this damned tomb in the first place.

He straightened up. "The chalice. That should be able to heal you, right?"

"If we can find it in time." Léonere grunted and pushed himself to his feet. "Go on, lead the way. I'll try and keep up."

Bilbo set off down the central hallway once more, pausing every so often to make sure Léonere was still following him. At the end of the hallway he could see a light. Even though it was faint, it nearly blinded him after being in the darkness for so long.

The hallway opened up into another room, this one a bit larger than the last. A thin beam of light came from the ceiling and illuminated a stone coffin in the center of the room. And at the back of the room, standing on a pedestal, was the chalice they'd been searching for.

"Well, that was easy," Léonere said. He was leaning on the doorway, head bent. In the light, Bilbo could see the copious amount of blood dripping down his shirt.

More footsteps sounded from down the hall. Bilbo turned around, squinting through the shadows to try and make out who it was. "Hello?"

There was no response, and a moment later he could discern the shuffling stride of one of the undead.

"Not good." He turned back to Léonere. "Go get the chalice, try and figure out how it works. I'll take care of him."

Léonere nodded and lurched away from the doorway. Bilbo took a moment to make sure Léonere could stand on his own, then drew his sword and turned back to the advancing monster. He parried its first, rather clumsy swing and detached its arm in one blow. The other arm and its head quickly followed.

Before the rest of the undead had even hit the ground, Bilbo was running back into the room with the coffin. Léonere had made it to the other side of the room and was bent over the pedestal. After a moment, he raised his head and turned around, holding the chalice loosely with one hand.

"Did you, uh, drink from it?"

Léonere nodded.

"And did it work?"

He nodded again, and swallowed hard. His breathing had gone from painfully shallow to deep and heaving.

"Are you all right?"

Léonere raised his head and shook it as though he meant to clear it. "It healed me. I feel great."

"Good. Let's take it back to the others." Bilbo walked over and reached out for the chalice, but before he could reach it Léonere cried out and dropped it as though it had burned them. They both watched in horror as the chalice fell onto the stone and began to crumple, as though collapsing in on itself.

"Why did it—" Before Léonere could finish his question, an unearthly screech sounded throughout the tomb, as though the very stone itself was trying to shrink in upon itself.

Bilbo yelled out in pain, clutching the sides of his head as flames shot into his vision, the fire spreading outward in the shape of an eye that seemed to pierce his very soul, its pupil a dark shape that went beyond the meaning of the word dark and instead reached out like a void, content on consuming and destroying—

Someone was shaking his arm. "We have to get out of here!" Léonere was kneeling beside him. "Come on!"

The room around them was shaking, bits of dust and small stones falling from the ceiling. Bilbo pulled himself to his feet from where he must have fallen to his knees.

Still a bit disorientated, he followed Léonere back into the darkness, the image of the burning eye still smarting behind his eyelids.

* * *

"You've lost. Give up. I beat you. You're boring, like the rest of them."

Holly bit back a scream and channeled her fear into pushing Damon's hands away from her throat. She was gripping both of his wrists but his fingers crept ever closer to the skin of her neck.

"There's no reason to keep fighting," he said, his dark eyes inches from her own. "You do realize that, don't you? If you keep pretending that you can win this, I'll have t—" His words were cut off as a chunk of rock fell from the ceiling and crushed him.

Holly blinked as reality reasserted itself with a jerk. The wrists she was holding were just bone, and the rest of the undead was underneath the piece of rubble that had nearly killed her.

She was in the tomb. Not Ravenhill.

The rest of her group had taken care of most of the undead, but a cave-in had blocked off the hallway, separating them from Bilbo and Léonere. Another tremor shook the tomb, and larger pieces of rock fell from the ceiling.

Holly ran over to the pile of rock obstructing the hallway, searching for a way through. She couldn't blast through it, or she might bring the whole place down upon their heads.

"Holly!" Thorin shouted, beheading one of the undead with a powerful swing. "Stay with the group!"

"We can't just leave them!" she shouted back.

Víriel appeared at her side, kneeling down. "There's a gap up near the top. I'll boost you up."

Holly shot a glance back at Thorin, then turned to Víriel. "Thank you." She stepped into her outstretched palms and reached up for the edge of the gap. There wasn't enough room to ensure a graceful landing, so after she pulled herself through she fell face-first down the other side and landed painfully on her shoulder.

She had only just stood up when she heard footsteps. Moments later, Bilbo and Léonere came running down the hall.

"Oh, thank Eru," Holly said, moving forward to meet them. "Did you find the—" The remainder of her question was drowned out as a deafening groan sounded from behind her. Bilbo reached out and pulled her away from the pile of rubble just as it collapsed into the earth, along with most of the ceiling.

Through the streams of soil raining down from the disintegrating ceiling, she could see Thorin beckoning to them and shouting something that was inaudible over the sound of the shaking earth.

She managed to make out the word _jump_. "I'd really rather not," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

The three of them glanced at each other, made a silent agreement, and sprinted forward together to try and clear the gap that separated them from the others.

Holly felt a sickening rush spread from her stomach all the way up her spine as she hurtled through the air. A shower of dirt hit her head and shoulders for a split second, then the edge of the gap appeared before her, rising up and up—

Dwalin grabbed her upper arms and pulled her onto solid ground. She had just enough time to confirm that Bilbo and Léonere had made it across as well before Dwalin was pulling her after him, up the stairs and out into the sunlight.

As soon as she was well away from the entrance of the tomb, Holly leaned her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath, bringing one hand up to wipe dirt out of her eyes. She straightened up and did a quick count of the group—everyone had made it out alive and relatively well.

For a moment they stood together, wordlessly watching the rest of the tomb crumble into rubble.

Alistair was the first one to break the silence. "Oh, Valar," he said, striding over to where Léonere was standing. "Where are you hurt?"

Under all the grime, there was a good deal of blood covering the lower half of his shirt and the top of his trousers. But Léonere held a hand up, shaking his head. "I'm all right. One of the traps got me, but Bilbo," he nodded to the hobbit in question, "helped save my life. We found the chalice and I used it to heal my wound."

Thorin stepped forward. "Where is it now?"

Léonere and Bilbo both hesitated, until the former spoke, "It was destroyed. I'm not sure how, but after I drank from it, the chalice imploded, sort of."

"And I assume that was when the whole tomb began falling apart," Holly said. Léonere nodded. She focused her gaze on the ground, a strange bitterness welling up on her tongue. Her solution had been useless after all.

Another bout of breathless silence swelled over the group. After a minute, Thorin said, "Let's take a short rest, then."

Holly steeled herself and walked over to him as the others settled down. She needed to set one thing straight, at least.

"It wasn't me. The undead, in the tomb, I swear it wasn't me."

Thorin held up one hand. "I believe you. I was watching you."

She blinked, surprised. "I'm sorry, about—you know. I had no idea it would happen like this."

"I know."

A scraping noise from the wreckage of the tomb entrance caused all of them to turn. A bony hand was fisted in the grass, and as they watched, the rest of the undead creature rose from the earth, loose soil raining down from its yellowed skull.

"These things don't die easy, do they?" Víriel walked over as it rose to its feet. She didn't bother drawing her weapon. Instead she raised one leg in a high kick that sent the undead's skull flying backwards over the rubble. The remains of the undead body crumbled to the ground.

"That's not right," Holly said, walking over to the fallen body. "The last time we encountered the undead, they became inanimate within a few minutes. Why did this one keep moving?"

Víriel looked at her. "This has happened before?"

She nodded. "Hopefully for the last time."

As the light of the setting sun caught the breastplate of the fallen body, Holly took note of the symbol painted on the metal. She knelt down and brushed some of the dirt off. Though the red paint was chipped and worn in places, there was enough left for her to discern its shape.

"It looks like an eye," Víriel said.

"That's because it is. I've seen this before."

The red eye was a symbol used by a group during the Second Age—supporters of Sauron. So they must have invaded the tomb to try and take the chalice, and fought with another group.

Sauron had been the most powerful caster of dark magic since the Second Age, as well as the most powerful necromancer. Perhaps he'd laid a curse upon the tomb, which affected burial sites in the surrounding area. That would explain why the undead stayed standing longer as they got closer to the tomb.

But Erebor was hundreds of miles away. A curse powerful enough to have that range would be strong enough for all of them to physically feel the raw energy radiating from the source. That theory also didn't explain why the undead would rise when they were near, instead of at random times.

Holly opened her eyes and turned to look at the rest of the group, studying each member individually. It had to be one of them, then, something that followed them and caused the dead to rise. She could rule out herself, as well as Víriel, Léonere, and Alistair since the latter three hadn't been close during the first two undead attacks.

This left the three dwarves and Bilbo. She couldn't fathom one of them practicing necromancy on purpose, so it had to be an accidental activation. A curse wasn't too likely because people were generally aware of the fact that they were cursed, even if they didn't know the specifics of it. No, it was more likely that one of them had picked something up, something—

 _portable, easy to hide, and simple to activate_.

Holly's eyes widened as buried memories from two years ago resurfaced.

 _How do you know about that?_

 _I saw you turn invisible. And after giving it some thought I concluded that you must be carrying some sort of magical object, seeing as you don't have any natural magical ability._

 _You're right. I did find a ring in the Misty Mountains._

 _Holly, there's something wrong with this ring. Whenever I put it on, it feels_ —

"Eliminate the impossible, and whatever remains must be true." She looked up to see the others staring at her.

"What is it?" Thorin asked. "What did you find?"

Holly sucked in a slow breath, looking over at Bilbo. He gazed back at her, concern evident in his eyes. She still remembered the distrust that had filled his gaze the last time she had asked him about his magic ring.

"Well," she began, then decided there was no point in mincing her words, seeing as they were all screwed no matter how she explained it. "Bilbo, there's a good chance you're carrying the One Ring."

 **You've can probably tell from this chapter that I've been watching too much Walking Dead and playing too much Legend of Zelda and Uncharted... (And I just got** **The** **Witcher 3 for Christmas, so evidence of that is probably gonna show up in a couple chapters.)**

 **Anyway, this concludes Part 1 of the fic and if everything goes to plan, there will be another couple 10-chapter segments like in Fëangren. The next few chapters, of which I already have rough drafts, are going to be pretty dark (I promise at least one character death) so prepare yourselves.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought. It helps me out a lot!**


	10. Cut Your Losses

**There's a pretty graphic death in this chapter so skip the italicized part if you're not good with gore (no worries, it's not a major death and not super important to the main plot)**

 **Chapter 10: Cut Your Losses**

Holly bit her tongue and wondered if she should have said anything at all. Léonere and Alistair wore twin expressions of shock, Víriel had her brow furrowed as though in deep thought, and the dwarves were inscrutable as usual. And Bilbo...Holly locked eyes with him and felt her heart sink. His surprise seemed to go deeper, into the realm of looking threatened.

The next best thing for her to do would be to provide the reasoning behind her statement. Perhaps that would make it a bit easier to swallow, so to speak.

"Sauron was not only the most powerful dark sorcerer of the Second Age but the most powerful necromancer as well. That explains why the dead become animated. And whatever caused it must have been something we carried with us, something that could be easily hidden and just as easily activated. A ring fits both of those categories. And, of course, everyone knows that Sauron had a ring that augmented his power, one that was lost at the end of the Second Age. How it ended up in Bilbo's possession, I'm not entirely sure, but seeing as he found it somewhere in the Misty Mountains, it makes sense that it must have been hidden in a secluded area for all these years." She looked around the group, studying everyone's faces once more. "I assume you all follow."

"There should be a way to know for sure," Léonere said. "If what you claim is true, most magical objects of that level of power have some sort of magical signature, if you will, if provided the right type of—"

"Yes, I know about that," she said. "I believe it's heat for this one. I read Isildur's account of his possession of the One Ring, back in the library at Gondor."

"All right." Léonere held out one hand and a small flame leapt to life in his palm. He turned to Bilbo. "Give it to me and we can make sure that what Holly says is true."

Bilbo glared in response. "I'm _not_ giving it to you."

Thorin cut in before things could escalate. "Let's assume for the moment that Bilbo really is carrying the One Ring. What now?"

"Well, we should get rid of it, I suppose," Holly said.

"It can only be destroyed by the fires from which it was forged," Léonere said.

"And where would that be?" Bilbo asked.

"The volcano in Mordor," Víriel said. "That area is right next to Ithilien. I'd be able to lead us there."

"Hold on, we're going to Mordor, now?" Bilbo asked. He turned to Thorin. "Don't we have a more pressing issue?"

"I'd say possession of a magical object full of evil energy is rather high on our list of priorities," Holly said.

Thorin nodded in agreement. "Should it fall into the wrong hands, such an item could endanger all of Middle Earth."

"And what about the reason we came out here in the first place?" Bilbo shot back. "I've held onto it for two years, I can hold onto it for a bit longer. It's not as if anyone else knows about it." Even as he said it, his gaze flickered nervously to where Léonere and Alistair were standing.

"Why did you all need the chalice, anyway?" Léonere asked. "If one of you is sick, I can try to heal—"

"No, you can't, and it's none of your business," Holly said.

He gave her a small frown, but continued. She had to commend him for trying. "It's my fault the chalice was destroyed," he said to Bilbo. "Let me help you."

"We don't need your help," Thorin said. "Our time working together is done, now."

Bilbo shook his head. "Then how else are we supposed to find a cure? Léonere has the resources we need to find something else—"

"Do you?" Holly asked the mage. "If you're so keen on helping us, then what's your brilliant idea?"

"That can wait," Thorin said before Léonere could respond. He turned to Holly. "If what you say is true, this ring has been causing the dead to rise, and could cause more damage if it falls into the wrong hands. We need to destroy it before that happens."

"Then why don't we just split up?" Nori said. "We have two different groups with two different priorities, and if one can't convince the other, then there's no use in arguing."

"We can't split up," Holly said. When Léonere began to say something else, she raised her voice to add, "That's how we all end up dead."

This apparently gave everyone else cause to speak up, all trying to talk over one another.

"Enough!" Thorin's voice rose above the rest, and everyone quieted. "We're not going to split up," he continued. "But Nori's right. We cannot reach a consensus now. We camp here for tonight, and resolve this issue tomorrow. I'll take first watch."

With that, he adjusted his grip on his sword and marched towards the rubble of the tomb, probably to check for any remnants of the dead. After a moment, Bilbo moved to follow him.

Holly watched him go, wiping some dirt from the bridge of her nose. It was because of her that they were in this situation, that they'd all been nearly buried alive in a tomb full of false promise. And now she was the reason they'd be marching down to Mordor, if Bilbo agreed to destroy the ring first.

Even if no one else knew about it, their journey would be a dangerous one. They would run into more dead, or a pack of orcs, or something else bent on killing them. The strange foreboding in the pit of her stomach led her to believe that, if nothing else. She'd had the same feeling the day before the battle at Erebor—the heaviness in the air like that before a storm, coupled with a sharpness that was reminiscent of blood.

Holly ran her fingers over the scar on her left hand. She'd see to it that her friends made it back home alive and safe. It was the least she could do after ruining their lives for the second time in two years.

* * *

 _Léonere pushed open a set of double doors and stepped out into the sunlight, striding down a cloister made of white marble. To his left, below the citadel, he could see the coastline. The docks were lined with warships, all of them nearly ready to set sail._

 _He allowed himself a small smirk. After years of scheming, everything was coming together._

 _Footsteps sounded ahead, and Léonere turned his head to see a guard turn the corner. He locked eyes with the him and felt his smirk grow wider._

" _Ah, Baranor. Have you come to wish me farewell?"_

" _I've had enough of your words, you lying snake," Baranor said, drawing his sword. His dark beard made the angles of his face even more intimidating, but could not hide the lines of age around his eyes and mouth. "The king may have fallen for your tricks, but I've known you were nothing but a liar and a traitor since the day you set foot inside this palace."_

" _You've come to kill me, then," Léonere said, eyeing the blade as Baranor leveled it at his chest. "Punish me for crimes I've yet to commit."_

" _I'm going to stop you, before you destroy us all."_

" _Not from here, you won't. Let me help." Léonere stepped forward, so the tip of Baranor's sword was inches from the fabric of his robe. "Go on then, Captain. Stop me."_

 _He could see the glimmer of doubt in Baranor's eyes, but then it disappeared as his gaze hardened. Baranor thrust his sword upward, aiming to pierce under the ribcage and into his heart._

 _Léonere willed a field of energy around him, the sheer force shattering the blade and leaving him unharmed. He locked eyes with Baranor once more as the metal shards hit the marble at their feet. Baranor stared back, fear and confusion widening his eyes._

" _What are you?"_

" _A liar and a traitor, according to you." He reached forward, the energy around his hand denting the metal of Baranor's breastplate, then tearing it open entirely. The fabric, flesh, and muscle beneath it followed suit. Baranor's scream of pain was cut off by a rush of blood as Léonere pulled removed the heart from his chest. He held it at eye level, so they could both watch it convulse once, then lie still._

" _But I think we both know more I'm more than that," Léonere continued. He let the organ fall to the ground. Baranor held his gaze, hatred and anger fighting through a haze of pain as the life drained from his eyes. "See you in the Undying Lands."_

* * *

Léonere sat up, gasping for air. He held up one hand, checking it for blood. It was clean, but the memory of the guard's murder remained fresh in his mind. He pushed himself up from his bedroll and stumbled out of the clearing. He'd only made it a few yards before he fell to his hands and knees and retched, trying to rid the nausea rolling through his stomach.

The brush behind him rustled, and in a moment Alistair was kneeling at his side.

"Léonere? What happened?"

He pushed himself into a sitting position and wiped his mouth with one shaking hand. "I-I was—" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was a nightmare. More realistic than anything I've experienced before."

Alistair gripped his shoulder and squeezed. "About what happened in the tomb?"

Léonere shook his head. "I was in a place I'd never been before. I wasn't in control of what I said or did. I-I didn't want to, but I killed someone." _And a part of me enjoyed it_ , he added silently.

"What does that mean, a dream like that? Is it magic?"

"I don't know." He used both hands to wipe the cold sweat from his face. "Magic and dreams...it's never been extensively studied before."

Alistair moved his hand up to the back of Léonere's neck. "Are you going to be able to sleep?"

"I don't know," he replied, reaching up to grasp Alistair's forearm. "It's what happens when I am asleep that scares me, really."

* * *

The sky was pitch black when Holly woke for second watch. She settled against a tree, facing the tomb, and scratched at her scalp. There was still quite a lot of dirt in her hair and clothes from when the tomb had collapsed.

She undid her braid and began combing through her hair with her fingers, hoping to get some of the dirt out while she could. There was no telling when would be the next time she'd be able to wash herself.

Soft footsteps interrupted her thoughts and Holly looked up to see Nori offering her his comb.

"Thank you." She accepted it and began working through her hair once more. "Trouble sleeping?"

"A little," Nori said, taking a seat next to her. "And I thought you could use some company."

"Why? Do I look lonely?"

"You look like you don't know how to use that comb."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Then it's good that I'll only be managing my hair into one braid instead of twenty."

"You mean Víriel will. Do you even know how to braid your own hair?" His eyebrows shot up when she didn't respond. "Really? I always wondered why you used to keep your hair down."

"My sister used to do my hair for me," Holly admitted.

"I promise, I'm trying very hard to imagine that."

"We weren't always mortal enemies. Anyway," she tried to change the subject, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Ask away. Don't think I'm done with the braid thing, though."

"You suggested earlier that we should all split up. But you never said which side you would choose."

Nori withdrew one of his knives and began to sharpen it. "So what's your question?"

Holly punched him in the arm.

"All right, all right. I agree with you. I think we've got to get this ring destroyed first." He set his knife down and turned to her. "I wouldn't worry about the others. One of us will convince Bilbo, and the other two can fuck right off."

She allowed herself a small smile. She'd come to a similar conclusion, but it was nice to hear someone say it out loud. "We don't need to split up. I want to keep everyone together."

"And that's something I've been meaning to talk to _you_ about." Nori raised his knife and began sharpening it again. "Back in the tomb, I saw you slip past those boulders, even though Thorin told you to stay with the group."

Holly frowned. "Bilbo was still there. I couldn't leave him behind."

"Just listen for a moment. Look, back in the Blue Mountains, I used to be a miner before I realized regular jobs were stupid. We had rules about cave-ins. If someone got stuck, we had to get the people who were able to escape out first. If we were able, we would go back for the ones left behind, but not before getting as many people out as possible."

She shook her head and repeated, "I couldn't leave him behind."

Nori sighed. "I know. But the point I'm trying to make is that you're not going to be able to save everyone. If everyone rushed back to help a straggler, the number of casualties would double. I don't mean to sound cold when I say this, but sometimes you've got to cut your losses."

Holly handed the comb back to him. "I know what you mean. But I can't think of it the same way you do. If it comes to saving one person or ten, I'm going to choose whoever keeps me sane."

Nori didn't respond immediately, and she looked up to see Thorin approaching them.

"We leave for Erebor today," Thorin said as he knelt down in front of them. "No matter which course of action we decide to take, we'll need more supplies. Balin will expect to hear from us soon."

"What about the others?" Holly asked.

"We leave them. As I said, we don't need their help anymore."

Holly glanced at the sleeping forms of the rest of the group. She wasn't too bothered by leaving the two men, but she was disappointed at the thought of having to part ways with Víriel. Perhaps she could find a way to see her again, and continue their friendship.

She turned back to Thorin, refocusing herself. "Whatever happens, I promise I will find another way to help your sickness. Even if I have to—"

The rest of her sentence was cut off by a sharp, inhuman shrieking noise that startled her so badly she would have dropped the comb had she still been holding it. The three of them stood up as the rest of the group woke and scrambled to their feet. All eyes turned to the east, where the sound had originated.

"What was that?" Nori asked.

Víriel had slipped her boots on and was securing her quiver and sheath as she climbed the pile of rubble. She stood silently for a moment, surveying the forest, then leaped back down.

"Horsemen, at least five of them. Moving fast in this direction."

Dwalin turned to Thorin. "What do we do?"

"We run. The trees will slow them down."

Holly grabbed her pack from where it lay at her feet and turned to go. She gasped as she bumped into someone coming from the trees, but it was only Bilbo.

"What happened? What was that noise?" he asked.

She realized he had not been sleeping with the others. "Where have you been?" Another thought occurred to her and she grabbed his arm. "You didn't touch the ring again, did you? Never mind, we don't have time for this. We have to go." She pulled him with her, breaking into a sprint as another unearthly shriek sounded.

Holly could see the others running beside her. They were close enough to stay within sight for now, but any break in the terrain could separate them.

"What are they?" Bilbo glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm not sure, but something tells me it wouldn't be wise to stop and ask them," Holly replied.

They ducked under a fallen tree trunk and entered a relatively clear part of the forest. She spared a quick glance around, to affirm that the others were still in sight, but the trees on either side remained motionless and empty.

"Holly, I saw one of them," Bilbo said. "They're gaining on us."

"Obviously. They have horses." Holly looked back and cursed. One of the horsemen, cloaked in black and riding a horse of the same color, was nearly upon them. She skidded to a halt and turned to face the rider.

A major disadvantage of riding a horse was that one was essentially at the mercy of the horse's movements, something that even the most experienced rider couldn't always control. She wasn't certain she'd be able to dismount the rider, but the horse would be a much easier target.

She held her hands out, shoulder-width apart, and took a deep breath. " _Naur perien rammas forven_."

A wall of fire leapt up from the underbrush, right in front of the rider. The horse neighed and reared back on its hind legs. Holly caught a glimpse of metal gauntlets as the horseman gripped the reins and struggled to keep his balance.

"Come on." She and Bilbo turned and ran. The spell had sapped some of her energy, but it was easier to create a catalyst in an environment like a forest, where the brush would do most of the work of spreading the fire, rather than having to maintain the energy of the spell like what she'd done in the tombs of Erebor.

Holly thought back to the metal gauntlets. Whoever these riders were, they were clearly hostile and, more likely than not, after the ring. But how could they have known where to find it? Perhaps Léonere or Alistair had alerted them. Or perhaps the ring could send a magical signal to more than just the dead.

It wasn't long before the two of them broke through the cover of the trees and ran out into the vast fields. Bilbo pulled on her sleeve and motioned to their right, where Thorin and Víriel were signalling them. They ran to rejoin them.

"Are you all right?" Thorin asked them.

They both nodded, trying to catch their breath. Holly turned back to the forest. Alistair and Léonere had emerged from the forest as well. Smoke was rising from the trees in thick clouds. For a moment, Holly wondered if they had halted the riders for good.

Though of course it couldn't be that easy. Four of them burst through the trees a few moments after the two men. Thorin signalled for them to start running again, but Holly hesitated, feeling the familiar gathering of energy before a spell. She couldn't hear Léonere's incantation, but she saw him spread his arms, and a wall of fire, longer and higher than the one she had created, sprang up on the field. All four riders stopped and were soon obscured by smoke.

She couldn't help but feel unnerved at the difference between her magical skills and Léonere's. If she were to duel him, she would lose.

They only stopped to rest once they'd reached a group of hills a few miles away from the forest. Holly sat on the side of one hill, panting. Bilbo followed suit next to her.

Víriel stood at the top, watching as the two men finally caught up to them. For a minute, they waited in silence, trying to catch their breath.

Holly stood up and surveyed the group, then turned to look out over the fields. Smoke billowed over the dry grass, highlighted by the red glow of the fire. There was no way the horsemen had made it out alive. She turned and counted the members of their group again, and felt a cold spike of fear shoot through her.

"Where's Dwalin and Nori?"

Thorin's head shot up, and he looked around the group, then climbed up the hill. Holly watched him survey the field and come to the same conclusion as her.

"No. We have to go back. We can't leave them," Holly said, feeling her breathlessness return. She shouldn't have started the fire.

"We can't. We'd never be able to find them," Thorin said, eyes still riveted on the burning plain.

She turned away, pain lodging itself in the back of her throat. Nori had spoken to her about this not even an hour ago. Would she be willing to abandon him and Dwalin, if it meant the rest of her friends could live?

A soft voice wrenched her out of her thoughts as Léonere said, "There's something you should see."

The remnants of their group followed him to the base of the hill. In the dim light of the crescent moon, Holly could see boulders and trees scattered throughout the hills. Léonere led them to a spot in the ground that she recognized as a campfire. Ashes had been scattered over the barely-glowing coals.

"Someone was camped here," Léonere said.

"Multiple someones," Holly said. "Look how big the fire is, and how much of the grass around it is flattened. And they covered it up in a hurry not too long ago."

"Which means they're still nearby," Thorin said, drawing his sword.

The barest hiss of sinew and wood sounded to her left, and Holly turned just in time to see Víriel fire an arrow at something approaching between two of the hills. Even in the dark she could recognize the shoddy leather armor.

"Orcs!"

They came pouring out from between the hills in all directions, nearly a hundred of them. Holly's first thought was that they must have seen them from afar and hidden their camp so they could take them by surprise. Her second thought came in the form of an acute awareness of her lack of weapon as the rest of the group drew their swords and Víriel nocked another arrow.

She wouldn't use magic unless she had to, so she could save her energy. As Thorin felled one of the orcs near her, she grabbed its weapon. The blade was unbalanced, and heavier than what she was used to, but it would have to do for now.

Holly slashed at the legs of one of the approaching orcs, then sliced off its head as it fell. The next one that came at her was able to block her hit, but she dodged its counterattack and pierced its abdomen. It seemed their leather armor was useful to protect against glancing blows and scrapes but did little against direct strikes.

The impact of a body hitting the ground behind her caught her attention, and Holly turned to see Víriel standing over a dead orc, her short sword slick with black blood.

"Come on," Víriel gestured for her to follow. "We're outnumbered here."

"But the others—" Holly glanced back as Víriel pulled her away, and realized Bilbo, Thorin, and the two men were nowhere in sight.

They crouched behind a boulder a little ways away from the skirmish. Holly turned and glared at Víriel. "We can't leave them to fend for themselves, dammit! We have to go—"

"Holly, listen," Víriel put both hands on either side of her face, holding her gaze. "We're not going to abandon them. But I work better from a distance, where I can get a good scope of the situation. I'm going to get a good vantage point where I can defend everyone. And you—shut up, I'm still talking," she said when Holly opened her mouth. "You have to find somewhere safe to hide until this is over."

"I can fight. I'll help you." Holly pushed her hands away.

"With what? A sword you can barely use? I get that you've been training with it, but a few weeks of experience won't save your life in a real fight. And if you use your magic, you'll light up the whole area and get swarmed." Víriel pushed the short sword into her hands. "I know you're smart. And if you want yourself and everyone else to get out of this alive, you'll do as I ask."

 _Dammit_. She was right. Holly gripped the sword and stood up. "Fine. We don't have time to argue anyway."

Víriel stood up and nodded. "Good woman. Be safe." She sprinted away, nocking another arrow.

Holly watched her go, then turned and ran in the opposite direction. Even if she couldn't directly fight the orcs, perhaps she could use her magic to provide a distraction somewhere, and thin out their numbers.

She skirted around the hills, checking behind herself occasionally. Once she was far away enough she turned back and surveyed her surroundings. The sounds of fighting were still audible from where she stood. Perhaps it would be better to cast a spell at the top of the hill, so the orcs would actually see it.

A flash of movement caught her eye and Holly turned just in time to catch an orc's strike on her sword. It shoved hard with its blade, pushing her off balance and onto her back. She rolled away just as the sword came down where her head used to be.

The orc pulled its sword from the ground and growled at her. Its muscular stature and swaggering posture hinted at a higher rank in whatever hierarchy the orcs had devised. That, and the string of severed ears tied around its neck. Most orcs didn't keep trophies.

As Holly stood up, the orc struck again, and she barely managed to dodge it's blow. This was nothing like training with Dwalin. If she made one mistake, it could end her life.

When she thrust her sword forward to stab at its chest, the orc did something she did not expect. It dropped its weapon and grabbed the wrist of her sword arm with one hand, then used the other to deliver a hard punch to her ribs. Holly grunted in pain, doubling over as it punched her again. Her sword slipped out of her grasp.

It let out a guttural laugh and shoved her onto her back once more. This time, she could not stand fast enough and the orc pinned her wrist down with one foot.

The dark figure looming above her warped, and Holly realized what was happening. _No, no, nonono_ —

"Now where was I?" Damon asked. "You know, it's a bit rude when you interrupt me like that, pretending that you're sane and the like." He leaned down and gripped her chin, pressing the tip of the orc's sword to her cheek.

"Go fuck yourself," Holly said, and earned another blow to the ribs. She groaned in pain, trying to wriggle away, but then he pinned her other wrist with one hand.

"Well, as I was saying earlier, you can't win this. You can't even get me out of your own head."

She blinked back tears of frustration and locked eyes with Damon, no, the orc. She raised her free hand and held it against his chest. " _Galthel perien rammas forven._ "

Nothing happened.

The orc—Damon—the orc grinned and hit her again and again and again and again. With her other hand pinned now, Holly could do nothing but choke against the pain and struggle uselessly. She didn't realize she had screamed until she stopped for breath and realized her throat was raw.

Without warning, the pressure disappeared from both her wrists and Holly sat up, blinking tears from her eyes. Damon stood back and watched her, head tilted slightly to the side.

"What use is that ring anyway, when you can just bring people back from the dead in your own mind?" Damon asked, twirling the orc's sword. "And just as I was in life, no less. None of that rotting nonsense."

Despite the trembling in her limbs, Holly breathed a sigh of relief. "You're not actually here. You're just in my head. I could get rid of you again, if I wanted to."

Damon laughed and shook his head. "No, you can't."

"I _can_." If she could just focus, rid her mind of the illusion.

But it was all too real as he stepped forward and drove his foot into her ribs. "You think you're so clever, because you can memorize fifty different types of tobacco ash? Because your mind works so much faster than everyone else? That means nothing to me. I am your _weakness_!" He kicked her once more. "I keep you _down_!" She had curled in on her bruised ribs, and his next blow hit her back. "Whenever you _stumble_ , whenever you _fail_ , when you're _weak_ , I am there."

" _Stop_."

"No, don't try and fight it. Just lie back and lose."

Holly lifted her head to look at him. Every breath sent a blaze of pain through her chest.

Damon lifted the sword once more. "I think this orc's had enough of you. It's going to kill you now."

Her breaths were coming fast and shallow, intermittent with sobs that only increased the agony in her ribs. If she wanted to cast the spell, defend herself, she needed to find her calm. But it was like trying to hit a target on a galloping horse, panicked as she was.

"It's a shame you're going out this way," Damon said. "On your back, like a coward. But I didn't expect anything less, really. Goodbye, Holly."

 **Pretty cheap cliffhanger since we all know I wouldn't kill off a main character (or would I?) Next chapter one of the actual relevant characters will die. Any guesses?**


	11. Like a Coward

**Chapter 11: Like a Coward**

When the orcs attacked, Léonere froze. Beside him, Alistair drew his sword and beheaded the nearest one with a powerful stroke. More orcs fell as their companions drew their weapons and attacked.

And Léonere couldn't move. He had never killed anyone before—even in the tombs, when their assailants had been dead for years, he had panicked and run away.

Something scraped against his palm, breaking him from his stupor. Alistair had pushed one of his knives into Léonere's hand. He held it up, unsure how to use it as an orc lunged at him from the left. Before he could even move, Alistair had cut that one down as well.

"Can you clear a path for us?" Alistair asked as he blocked a strike from an orc's sword.

"R-Right." Léonere searched for a weak spot in the crowd that had surrounded them. He knew orcs were despicable and savage creatures, and one could argue that none of them deserved to live, but the uneasiness in his gut persisted despite of this. He found his target and raised his hands. With one last prayer that the spell would not hit any of their allies, Léonere cried, " _Cae perien rammas eria_!"

The earth rose and splintered, throwing orcs to either side and forming a jagged gap in the horde. Alistair grabbed his arm and pulled him through. They had barely made it through before the orcs regrouped and readied for another attack. Léonere's spell had caught the attention of more than the ones immediately surrounding them. He turned and felt his stomach drop at the sight of at least twenty pairs of eyes glinting at him.

Alistair cursed and pushed him away from the throng. "You have to get out of here. I'll take care of this lot."

"What?"

"If you stay here, you'll get overwhelmed. I know you need time to recover in between spells. I can't protect us both." He shoved an orc into the group behind it, buying himself a few seconds to turn and look Léonere in the eye. " Go! I'll find you when this is over."

Léonere opened his mouth but no sound came out, an unnamed emotion surging and choking back his intended response. Before he could collect himself, Alistair had already turned back to the orcs, his voice raised in a wordless shout as he cleaved the skull of one with his sword.

The dry grass rustled under his feet as Léonere turned and ran. The clash of steel and the guttural cries of the orcs faded into a whisper, deafened by the pounding of the blood in his ears.

They would find each other once more, as they had for the past seven years. And Léonere would give him his response. There was time yet.

* * *

Two years ago, if someone had told Thorin that he would be grateful to have a hobbit fighting by his side, he would not have believed them. Yet now, with enemies surrounding them on all sides, he felt a steady sense of reassurance from Bilbo's presence. They worked in deadly unison, striking down orcs and defending each other's backs. Bilbo's skill with the sword had improved since the beginning of their quest, so Thorin did not worry as much about his injured arm and more vulnerable left side.

He pulled his blade out from between the ribs of an orc and, in the same motion, elbowed another in the face as it came at him from the right. Its nose cracked, a spurt of blood issuing from the injury as the orc howled and stumbled back. Before it could recover, Bilbo sliced its head off. The orcs had nearly overwhelmed them at first, but without reinforcements their numbers were rapidly thinning.

The orcs seemed to realize this as well, and one called for a retreat. The remainders, no more than fifteen, abandoned the fight and ran north. Thorin knocked the legs out from one as it retreated and stabbed down into its chest.

Bilbo was panting as he knelt down to wipe his sword on the grass. He stood up and looked around. The dip between the hills had fallen silent, save for the wind-rustled grass between the bodies of the slain.

"Where are the others?" Bilbo asked at the same time Thorin asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Bilbo said. "Are you?"

"Yes," Thorin said. He cleaned his sword as well and sheathed it. "Let's search the bodies, make sure none of them are one of our own."

"Oh. A-All right."

Bilbo had never done this before, Thorin reminded himself. His own first time had been after the Battle of Azanulbizar, when he had spent hours looking for his father's body among the dead. A fierce, burning hope had pushed him through his exhaustion that day, the hope that his father had survived his encounter with Azog and was simply injured somewhere.

It was the same hope that had him looking up at the eastern hill every so often, half-expecting to see Nori and Dwalin at the top.

"Anything?" He called over to Bilbo.

"No," he replied, jogging over to where Thorin stood. "I think they must have all split up. They're alive somewhere, at least."

"I hope you're right." A part of him considered checking the bodies again, in case they had missed something. But something in Bilbo's voice prompted him to say instead, "Let's keep moving, see if we can find them."

They headed west, towards the unknown territory of the hills. The sky had lightened considerably despite a haze of smoke covering its eastern half. Dawn would break within the next hour.

"You fought well," Thorin said. "Your skills have improved considerably since the first time I saw you pick up a sword."

"Yes, I finally realized there's more to it than 'point the sharp end at the enemy'," Bilbo said with a slight smile.

"There's still more you could improve on, though. If you're willing, I can teach you some more advanced techniques."

Because of his injury, Thorin would have had Dwalin teach him, but that wasn't something he could promise at the moment. The thought of his best friend sent a spike of pain through his heart, but Thorin set it aside for the moment. There would be time for grieving later.

Bilbo seemed to be having similar thoughts, because his voice was subdued as he said, "I'd like that."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Bilbo lifted his head and said, "How long does a person have to be missing, before you have to assume they're dead?"

Thorin stiffened. "You ask as though there's a specific time limit."

"That isn't what I'm saying," Bilbo responded. "Though sometimes I wonder if there should be."

What a tender world that would be, to pack up grief mingled with hope in a box of resignation. Thorin wondered, for a moment, if Bilbo had ever given up Holly for dead. He had moved to Erebor a few weeks after she'd gone missing, and that had been the kindling for their relationship to grow into what it was today. It was strange how Holly, who had been a source of madness-fueled jealousy for him, had helped him and Bilbo grow closer in the end.

They passed between two boulders and came to a relatively secluded part of the area. Two steep hills rose on either side, and the other end of the glen was a cluster of trees.

The creak of a bowstring sounded behind them, and they turned in time to see Víriel lower her bow.

"Oh, thank Eru. Have you seen Holly?" she asked, striding towards them. Léonere followed behind her.

"No, was she with you?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes, but we split up."

"Have you seen Alistair?" Léonere asked.

"No," Thorin said.

"He was fighting the orcs last I saw him. Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

"We checked the bodies of the fallen back there," Bilbo said. "I'm sure they're both out there somewhere. Probably looking for the rest of us."

Víriel adjusted her grip on her bow. "Well, we've got four out of six so far. The rest of you stay here, and I'll try and find them."

"Wait," Thorin said as she made for the two boulders. "I can't let you run off like that. If we let ourselves become separated, there's no telling if we'll all be able to find each other again."

Víriel turned back to him and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm not asking you to let me do anything. I know how to track people. Just stay here, and I'll be back as soon as I can."

Thorin's angry retort was cut off as he caught sight of Bilbo's pale face. He followed his gaze to where he was staring at something between the boulders.

A slight figure had moved into sight, and a moment later Holly stepped out of the shadows. Blood covered the lower half of her face and had dripped down to stain a portion of her shirt. She was slightly hunched over, as though she was in a great deal of pain. The short sword in her grip fell to the ground.

"Holly," Bilbo said, and ran to meet her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I—" She grunted as her legs gave out and she fell to her knees.

Bilbo knelt down beside her, putting both hands on her shoulders. "What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"O-One of the orcs surprised me," Holly said.

"That's on me," Víriel said, kneeling down as well. "I'm so sorry, Holly. I shouldn't have left you on your own."

Holly shook her head, sitting back and gingerly drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Where are you hurt?" Bilbo repeated.

Thorin saw the way her eyes had clouded over and the shallow breaths she was taking and stepped forward. "Give her some space," he said, placing one hand on Bilbo's shoulder. He seemed surprised at the request, but took his hands from her shoulders and backed up a little.

Thorin knelt down in front of Holly. He'd noticed since she had returned to Erebor that she displayed signs of warrior's sickness, but wasn't sure if she would let him help her or push him away.

"Holly, breathe. Let it out slowly. Take your time."

She blinked and looked at him from under a furrowed brow when he began to speak, then nodded and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"That's good. Another one, now."

One hand reached out, grasping at thin air, then knotted itself in the fabric of her trousers. Holly nodded again, squeezing her eyes shut, and said in a hoarse voice, "I'm fine, I'm fine."

Before Thorin could say anything else, Léonere spoke up from behind them. "I'm sorry, I know this isn't the right time, but I need to know. Did you see any sign of Alistair while you were out there?"

At this, Holly went still.

Thorin stood and turned to face him. "You're correct. This isn't the right time—"

"I saw him."

He turned back around. Holly was staring at the ground, and now both hands were fisted in the fabric of her trousers.

"Well—Well, where is he?" Léonere asked.

In the pale light of the rising dawn, the barest glimmer of a tear traced its way down Holly's cheek. When she spoke, it was so soft Thorin could barely hear her next words. "He's dead. The orcs killed him."

* * *

Holly could hear Thorin and Léonere arguing, but their words reached her ears as nothing more than incomprehensible hum. She wanted to block it all out, but her scrambled mind was only doing half the job correctly.

Reality began to grind its way back into her sphere of consciousness as someone touched her hand. She blinked away the rest of the tears in her eyes and looked up to see Bilbo staring back at her, concern evident in his eyes.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

Holly coaxed her fingers out of their grip on her trousers and turned them so she could hold Bilbo's hand. "I-I don't know." Every time she tried to banish the image from her mind, of what had happened back there, it forced itself back to the front of her consciousness.

Bilbo gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "Let's get you patched up, all right? You'll feel better after that."

"Where are you hurt?" Víriel asked her.

"M-My ribs, mostly."

"I can take a look at her injuries," Víriel said to Bilbo. "I've dealt with this sort of thing before."

He nodded and turned to Holly. "You're all right with that?"

"Of course I am." She winced as she pushed herself to her feet. "Let's just get this over with."

Víriel led her to the woods at the other end of the glen, where they would have some privacy. After checking to make sure they couldn't be seen, she said, "All right, take your shirt off. I'll see if I need to wrap your chest."

"I'd rather keep myself mostly covered if I can," Holly said. She lifted her shirt up to just under her breasts, then hissed at what she saw.

Víriel turned from where she'd been digging supplies out of her pack and cursed. "I'm definitely going to have to wrap that."

Her skin was painted with red patches and a few that dipped into a deeper purple color. The sight reinforced how much pain she was in, and Holly squeezed her eyes shut once more as Damon's haunting grin flashed across her vision.

"I need to see if any of them are broken, all right?" Víriel said, walking over and kneeling down in front of her. "This is going to hurt. A lot."

"I'll survive."

"Let's hope for the best, shall we?" Víriel said with a grim smile, and began checking her ribs one by one.

Even the light pressure of her fingers on her injuries was enough to make her whimper in pain. Each touch sent a flare of agony across her skin. By the time she was done, a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead.

"All right, it doesn't seem like anything is broken," Víriel said. She reached up and brushed her fingers over one section of skin. "Where did you get this scar?"

"Hm?"

"It's cold to the touch."

Holly realized she was referencing the wound she had sustained during the battle at Erebor. The difference in temperature was likely due to the magical nature of the Morgul venom. "It's a long story."

"Did you get stabbed by an icicle, perhaps?"

Holly managed a small smile. "Yes, while I was fighting a ten-foot-tall, cursed snowman."

"Now, that's something I'd like to see," Víriel said as she began winding the bandages around Holly's chest. She worked in silence, and Holly tried focusing on her breathing.

Once she was done, Holly pulled her shirt back down and made to walk away, but Víriel kept her in place with two hands on her waist.

"Listen, I really am sorry for what happened back there. I didn't think you'd be in any danger."

"Don't apologize," Holly said, shifting her gaze from Víriel's vibrant eyes to the grass at their feet. "It wasn't—I-I should have—"

Víriel stood up. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

Holly took as deep of a breath as the bandages would allow and began tucking her shirt into her trousers. "I have to be, eventually."

She still couldn't meet Víriel's eyes. She would walk out there, injured but alive, and struggle to look all of them in the eye.

None of them could know what she had done.

* * *

"It's a shame you're going out this way," Damon said. "On your back, like a coward. But I didn't expect anything less, really. Goodbye, Holly."

Holly grit her teeth as panic and desperation tried to wrest the hard-won calm from her mind. She raised one hand as the orc raised its sword, and cried out, " _Galthel perien rammas forven!_ "

The light from her spell blinded her. When Holly finally blinked her vision back to normal, she saw the pile of ash at her feet.

For a moment, she thought she saw Damon's shadow, as though the spell had not even fazed him, as though he would rise from the ash and continue to torture her, and the next thing she knew she had snatched up the short sword and was running for her life.

Each breath wrapped an agonizing vice around her ribs, which were no doubt bruised. But she couldn't let that stop her. She had to get away.

Holly pushed her way into a small cluster of trees and leaned against one. She wasn't sure if she was panting or hyperventilating, but through the rush of her breaths, she could hear the pounding of heavy footsteps.

She spat out a curse and forced herself into a run once more. The pain in her ribs was already slowing her down. If the orc caught up to her, she would not be able to defend herself.

There was no room to take chances any more.

Holly found a tree with a wide trunk farther ahead and darted behind it, holding the sword with its tip aimed at the sky. She tightened her hold on the leather grip and tried to keep her hands from shaking. She clamped her lips shut to try and silence her breathing. The pounding footsteps were getting closer. She would only have one shot at this.

 _One...two...three…_

She spun around from behind the tree and thrust her sword forward. The blade easily passed through its ribs, a hot wave of blood washing over the sharp metal.

The orc's momentum sent them both toppling to the ground, the butt of the sword ramming painfully into her chest as the orc's full weight settled on top of her.

Holly groaned in pain and shoved the body off, watching its face as it slumped to the side.

She felt the muscles of her throat and chest constrict in shock and horror.

Alistair's widened eyes stared back at her, a slow, seeping pain spreading across his features.

"No—Alistair—I didn't mean—" Holly could only stare, frozen, as he choked, blood staining his beard.

Shock gave away to panic and she pushed herself up, gripping his shoulder. "No, no no, I didn't know it was _you_!"

He couldn't hear her. Glassy eyes stared at nothing as Holly fell back, her whole body trembling. Even if she had the energy for a healing spell, it was too late to do anything.

She let out a noise between a sob and a shriek, covering her mouth with the hand that wasn't stained with Alistair's blood. She had killed him. She had murdered an innocent man.

How many times those two phrases slammed themselves into her mind, she did not know, but it was a long time before she was able to pull her gaze away and stumble away from the body.

She was nearly out of the wood when another, more horrifying thought snaked its way to the front of her mind. Orc blood was black. If her friends found her, and checked her for wounds, they would know the blood staining her hand and her shirt was not hers. They would know she had killed him.

Holly gripped the bark of a nearby tree, pressing her forehead against the rough surface. She let out a low groan, then pulled her head back and smashed it into the tree. The force of it was enough to knock her back a few feet. Holly brought one hand up to hover near her throbbing nose, then dropped it back to her side. Hot, thin blood ran down past her mouth, over her chin, and onto her shirt, mingling with the blood already stained there.

The red liquid was nearly black in the dark of the wood. After a moment of watching it soak into the fabric, Holly lifted her head and limped out of the trees.

 **Not gonna lie, the ending kinda messed me up after I wrote it. After I finished the first draft and sat back and just felt kinda...bad. And it was something I'd been planning for a long time.**

 **Next chapter may or may not have another character death. It's going to be pretty short but I had to end it where I did because...well, you'll see.**

 **Sending my love to those of you waiting in dread for The Lying Detective on Sunday! As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought. It helps me out a lot.**


	12. A Promise

**Chapter 12: A Promise**

The silence was oppressive in the darkness of the cave, broken only by Holly's soft breathing, which was raspy from coughing up dust. Sticky blood was trickling down from somewhere on her head and collecting on the ground below her ear.

She shouldn't have been so slow. She shouldn't have left him behind. And if she had been more attentive…

If she had been faster, then perhaps Bilbo would still be alive.

 **Two Hours Earlier**

Thorin's voice was hard as he said, "Go, then. You have an hour, then we leave without you."

Holly and Víriel had come back to find Léonere gone, probably having slipped away to go find Alistair. When Víriel had volunteered to find him, Thorin had stepped in and tried to persuade her to stay.

"I won't need an hour," she said. Before she turned to go, Víriel paused and looked at Holly, concern flitting over her features.

Holly looked away, glaring at the grass. They were losing members of their group at an alarming rate. It was like herding cats.

Without another word, Víriel passed through the boulders, leaving just three of them left in the glen.

The sun inched its way above the horizon. They waited in silence.

Eventually Holly stood up, wanting a distraction from the pain in her ribs and the anxiety of waiting. "Has it been an hour yet?"

Thorin looked up, checking the progress of the sun's light against the hillside. "We have some time left."

"Víriel said it wouldn't take that long. I-I should go after her. Make sure she's all right."

He shook his head, voice sharp as he said, "We can't keep splitting up. One of us is going to get killed."

She winced. One of them already had. "Then we'll go as a group."

"And risk all of us being attacked? Going back would put all of us in danger of running into the orcs again."

Holly felt her voice tremble as she asked, "So I suppose we should just sit here, then?"

"We have no other choice."

She could hear the frustration and bitterness in Thorin's voice, and knew he hated this as much as she did. But that didn't stop the familiar panic buzzing in her chest. She couldn't _sit_ anymore. She paced the glen for a bit, then picked up Víriel's short sword from where it was lying in the grass.

"Will one of you spar with me? Since we have nothing better to do."

"Holly, you're injured. You should be resting," Bilbo said.

"There are quite a few things that _should_ be happening right now and aren't. I can handle it." When Bilbo shook his head, she turned to Thorin, a note of desperation entering her voice. "Thorin?"

"Bilbo is right. You shouldn't exert yourself."

Holly let out a groan and resumed pacing, trying to slow her breathing.

Eventually Bilbo walked over and took the sword from her hand. "Holly, please get some rest. At least sit down for a while."

She obliged, lowering herself with a wince as Bilbo went to his pack and returned with a cloth and a waterskin. "You've got blood all over your face," he said, kneeling down in front of her. "How are your ribs?" he asked as he began wiping blood off her chin.

"Bruised. I suppose I got lucky, considering how hard he was hitting me."

Bilbo nodded, then lowered his voice. "I know it isn't easy for you, but you've got to listen to what Thorin says. It's hard for him to keep everyone together and—and alive."

"I know. It was easier last time, when everyone had a common goal," Holly admitted.

"Thorin knows what he's doing. He's been in this sort of situation before."

"I don't doubt it." Holly winced as his hand bumped against her still-tender nose.

"Sorry." He readjusted his grip on the cloth so he could use a cleaner section. "You know, once this is all over, I think you should take a break. Try limiting yourself to getting injured every two months instead of every week."

Holly grinned. "You're one to talk. At least I don't get stabbed by fallen tree branches." They both giggled. As they fell into a comfortable silence once more, she felt a sudden rush of fondness and reached out to pull him close. "We're all going to make it out of this alive, all right?"

"I know." Bilbo reached up to hug her back, careful of her ribs. "Where is this sudden bout of optimism coming from, though? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Holly pulled back with a smile. "I suppose that could be attributed to your own fanatical optimism. I think you're rubbing off on me."

Bilbo gave a soft laugh at that and went back to cleaning her face.

"Really, though," Holly said. "I don't know what I would do without you."

He paused his work and gave her the same look as the one he had given her on Ravenhill two years ago, moments before she had nearly fallen to her death.

 _There's something I should say, something I've always meant to say…_

"I didn't mean it like that," she said. "Whatever we had before, I don't think we were meant to rekindle it. But I—I still love you dearly, as a friend."

Bilbo gave her a shaky smile and said, "You know I feel the same."

Holly did know, but hearing it left a steady warmth in her chest. The sharpness of the past night's events seemed to lessen, if only for a moment.

He finished cleaning the last bits of blood from her face and set the cloth down. "You should get some rest now, while you can. Thorin and I will watch for the others."

"All right." Holly watched him stand up and walk back over to where Thorin was sitting, then laid down. She spent a minute trying to find a position that didn't put her ribs in agonizing pain, then eventually gave up and closed her eyes.

Exhaustion closed in and she fell into a dreamless, hazy sleep.

* * *

When Léonere finally found Alistair's body, he nearly tripped over it.

Dawn was already filling the sky with light, but the hills and trees cast deep shadows that filled the area with swaths of darkness.

He looked down and saw blood and something took hold of his heart and twisted it, _hard_.

A sob constricted his throat and Léonere fell to his knees. "Oh, Eru. P-Please, no, no no…"

He placed both hands on Alistair's shoulders, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his eyes raked over the congealing blood on his chest over and over and over until his tears had blurred the sight entirely.

Léonere let out a low, shaking groan and bowed his head, more tears running hot down his face. They left burning trails along his cheeks but on the inside he felt cold.

After some amount of minutes, or hours, or days, his tears had run dry and Léonere sat back and tried to rub his face clean. Instead he could feel Alistair's blood smear along his cheekbones.

Part of him half-expected life to return to Alistair's dimmed eyes, for him to sit up and reach over and wipe the tears and blood away. Part of him wondered if it truly was too late for a healing spell. Magic had always come to his aid. Perhaps it could help him once more.

 _He could bring Alistair back._

For a moment he took the thought and embraced it, and something victorious and hopeful snaked its way into his consciousness. But in the next moment he forced himself to clear away such a delusion. It wasn't possible, to bring back the dead.

The rustle of foliage make him start and turn around. There, silhouetted in the rising sunlight, was a tall figure.

"V-Víriel?"

The figure stepped forward and, as his eyes adjusted, Léonere realized it was not the ranger.

The man standing in front of him had pin-straight, brilliant blond hair and piercing brown eyes that were so light they looked nearly gold. He stepped forward, his face still shrouded in shadow, and held out one hand in invitation.

* * *

Anyone who looked at Thorin would have seen his usual stoic exterior, yet inwardly he was panicking.

After the tomb, their group had fallen apart. Nori and Dwalin were missing and most likely dead, Alistair had been killed by orcs, and now another two of their group had run off despite his efforts to keep them all together.

He did not know if they had enough provisions to make it safely back to Erebor, nor if they would be able to make it back at all. Whoever had sent the dark riders that had attacked them before would likely make another attempt to kill them. Then there was the hidden threat of another attack by the undead or orcs, as well as the dark power of Bilbo's ring.

Erebor was in capable hands for now—he trusted Balin and Dain to take charge in his absence, but that trust did nothing to assuage the wave of guilt he felt at the thought of his kingdom. There was a strong possibility he would never make it back to Erebor. Thorin had experienced the pain of losing his home before, but he had not anticipated that his home, his people, would lose _him_.

He shook himself from his thoughts and looked up. When he saw Holly curled up on her side and clearly asleep, he shot a questioning glance at Bilbo, who was sitting a little ways off.

"She's inured," Bilbo said. "She needs to rest, at least for a little while."

Thorin stood up. "We don't have that kind of time. I gave Víriel more than an hour, and she has not returned. We need to get moving."

Bilbo frowned at that, but did not argue. Instead he said, "Where do we go next?"

"We stick with the original plan. We try and make for Erebor."

"S-So we're not going to go look for the others?"

"No," Thorin's voice felt heavy as he responded. "If we had more people, more time, we could try, but… We—There is nothing more we can do."

Bilbo did not respond, and for a moment Thorin believed their conversation to be over. Then he stood up and walked over. Thorin felt as if time had slowed as he felt Bilbo's smaller hands grasp one of his own and press something into his palm. He looked down to see a small acorn.

"Where did you find this?" Oak trees were rare in Rhovanion.

"I picked it up in Beorn's garden," Bilbo said.

His heart lifted with a small sense of wonder at the simple gesture. "You've carried it with you all this time."

"And now I want you to have it." He closed Thorin's fingers around the acorn. "Keep it, as a promise."

Thorin felt the words nearly catch in his throat as he repeated, "A promise."

"Yes. Even after all this death and suffering, there is a new chance at life. I know it may sound foolish, or hopeless, but it's—it's something to hold onto, at least for now."

"You're right." Despite the grief still heavy in his heart, Thorin felt a small, genuine smile spread on his face. "We should not give up hope, not while we still draw breath. I give you my word that we will live to fight another day."

"Quite right." Bilbo's smile seemed a bit shaky as he said, "Thorin, I—"

An inhuman shriek sounded from the east, so loud it bounced off the hills and echoed several times before finally falling silent. Thorin and Bilbo both started, hands flying to their weapons.

Holly sat up with a wince, blinking sleep out of her eyes. "Was that—?"

"The riders have found us again," Thorin said through clenched teeth. "Get up. We're out of time." He slipped the acorn into his pocket. "We have to go, _now_."

* * *

The man's voice was soft, almost musical, when he spoke. "Was he your friend?"

Léonere looked down at Alistair's body and felt the muscles in his chest constrict once more. "Y-Yes."

"I'm very sorry for your loss." He came and knelt down next to Léonere. "Did he die in battle?"

Léonere only nodded, the words failing to come.

"Yes, I saw the dead orcs not too far from here," the man said, studying Alistair with light eyes.

He finally found his voice again and said, "What—Who are you?"

"My apologies." The man inclined his head slightly. "You may call me Annatar." He lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Léonere. "I know you need time to grieve. But if you come with me, I will show you a new path."

"W-What does that mean?"

The man's golden eyes seemed to glow as he said, "You and I are going to change the world."

* * *

Holly stumbled and fell to her knees, gasping for breath. They hadn't been running for long but she already felt as if her lungs had shrunk to half their size. Every breath renewed the pain in her ribs.

Bilbo stopped and went to help her up. "Are you having trouble breathing?"

She took several more deep breaths in lieu of a response, resting both hands on her knees. She didn't know how much longer she could run before causing permanent damage, but resting was out of the question.

"She can't go on like this," Bilbo said, turning back to Thorin.

"If we stop, we die," Thorin said.

"Not if we find somewhere safe," Holly said, standing up straight. "We could lay a trap, ambush them. I could try my fire magic again, buy us some time to come up with a more permanent solution."

"Then we'd better find a place to do that quickly," Thorin said. He gestured for them to continue. "Come on."

Holly grimaced but pushed herself to break into a run once more. This time, Bilbo stayed by her side, as though he was afraid she would fall again.

The sun was nearly overhead by the time they stopped again. They had just skirted around another hill when Bilbo grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. "There!"

She looked over to where he was pointing and saw the mouth of a cave. It was a decent size—about ten feet tall and just as wide. "That could work."

They slowed to a jog as they approached the cave. The inside sloped down at an angle but they could see little beyond that.

"I'll stay up here, and keep an eye out for the riders," Bilbo said.

Thorin nodded and entered the cave with Holly. They kept walking until the entrance was out of sight, straining in the dim light to see where the cave ended. The interior remained just as wide as the entrance, and showed no signs of stopping or shrinking.

"This could work to our advantage," she said, still a bit breathless. "We lure the riders down here, and then I set off a cave-in from the outside and trap them down here. Even better if they leave their horses above ground so we can disable their mounts for good."

Thorin walked over to the cave wall and placed one hand on the stone surface, tilting his head back and studying the ceiling. "That could work." He turned to her. "Will you be able to handle that, in your current state?"

Holly put one hand on her ribs, then moved it to Víriel's short sword where she had tucked it into her belt. "I-I will. I have to."

"Good. Then—"

They both froze, and the premonition Holly had experienced earlier that day—the heaviness in the air, the stench of blood—hit her once again with the force of a battering ram. A moment later, several shrieks sounded from the mouth of the cave.

Thorin and Holly simultaneously cursed and sprinted for the entrance. The pain in her ribs had faded to a dull ache, replaced by the pounding of her heart and the panic raking through her mind. _We left Bilbo alone_.

The mouth of the cave had just come into sight when Holly stumbled and nearly fell. As she righted herself, what she saw made her heart nearly stop.

Bilbo was surrounded by four of the cloaked figures. He had his sword drawn and was standing ready as the riders closed in.

She could hear the scrape of Thorin drawing his own sword. Holly raised her hands, sliding into calm and incanting, " _Galthel perien rammas forven._ "

Time seemed to slow, each second grinding past with painful inevitability.

Bilbo raised his sword and attempted to strike the rider closest to him.

The rider knocked the blade out of the way with one metal gauntlet.

Holly watched with wide eyes as the rider drew back his sword and plunged it into Bilbo's chest.

She screamed.

The energy of the spell responded to her loss of control, spilling out of her reach and striking out in all directions.

Pain coursed through her body like a wildfire and Holly fell to her knees as rock began raining down from the ceiling of the cave—first small stones, then chunks larger than her body.

The last thing she saw was Bilbo's body hitting the ground before the cave collapsed and swallowed them in darkness.

 **So a lot of the stuff in this chapter fucked me up as I was writing. Especially that last scene, even though I'd been planning it from the beginning.**

 **These next few chapters are part of a segment I like to call: Holly and Thorin Deal With a Lot of Problems While Being Stuck Underground. And bonus scenes with** **Leonere. Anyone else getting religious fanatic vibes from Annatar? Those of you who have done your homework should know exactly where that is going.**

 **But yeah to address the elephant in the room, it was something I had to do, for reasons you'll probably figure out later. Please don't hate me?**


	13. Guilty as Charged

**Chapter 13: Guilty as Charged**

 _Despite the late hour, Léonere was already awake and dressed by the time the guard knocked on the door. The dull ringing of the warning bells down in the city had roused him minutes before._

" _Enter."_

 _The guard entered and gave a hasty bow. "My lord, there_ — _there seems to be problem."_

" _Clearly," he deadpanned, raising one eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"_

" _I-I...I believe this is something you'll want to see for yourself. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you." The guard lowered his voice. "People are saying that the Valar are punishing us."_

 _Léonere felt his lips twist into a snarl. "The Valar have no power here. Or have you forgotten whose protection we all lie under?"_

 _The guard straightened. "N-No, my lord. But the night watch...they say the island is sinking."_

 _The island felt just fine to Léonere, but he brushed past the guard anyway and went over to the balcony that overlooked the city and the sea beyond. Below, he could see people flooding out onto the streets._

 _Then his eyes traveled out to the horizon, where a growing shape was forming._

 _Léonere cursed._

 _A wall of water, as tall as a mountain, was rushing toward the island. Even from the distance, he could tell it was traveling fast. They would have less than an hour before the wave engulfed them completely._

 _He looked toward the docks and sneered. If the Valar meant to sabotage their invasion plans, they were weeks too late. The ships had left long ago, and would likely be at their destination soon._

 _But the people below would all die. Not that Léonere minded_ — _their use had long since expired._

" _M-My lord? What should we do?"_

 _Léonere sighed. He'd nearly forgotten about the guard. "Whatever you'd like, I suppose. Raid the wine cellars if you wish. It won't really matter in about...forty five minutes."_

 _He turned to see the guard glaring at him with wide eyes._

" _Baranor was right. You...You're a liar. You've only ever cared about gaining power."_

" _Guilty as charged." Léonere smirked. "I ripped his heart out, you know. And I'll do the same to you, unless you get out of my sight."_

 _The guard's eyes turned fearful as he gazed at the rising water on the horizon. "The Valar are punishing us...for trusting_ you _."_

" _Yes, I suppose that was rather stupid of you. Now get on with the last hour of your life, or I'll remove your innards too."_

 _What little the courage the guard had mustered evaporated and he retreated back into the palace. Léonere waited in silence as the wave grew taller and closer. As the screams of the people began to rise from the city, he gathered magical energy in a protective barrier around himself._

 _The water hit the beaches first, a white foam cresting the rippling, unforgiving dark blue of the wave. It engulfed the buildings like a stampede and tumbled over itself in its haste to reach the palace._

 _When it finally hit the barrier around him, Léonere grunted and stepped back, fighting against the sheer force of the water. For a few moments, the world around him grew dark, and the rushing of the water was almost deafening._

 _But soon enough, the water pulled back like a tablecloth, leaving only bits of foam and a sheen of water on the stone of the balcony. The palace's altitude had saved it from the worst of the damage, Léonere realized as he looked down at the flooded, scattered rubble of the city. He let the energy around him dissipate. The air smelt of salt and death._

 _He reached out and plucked a bit of seaweed from the balcony railing with two fingers, examining the slimy surface. There wasn't much left for him here. He would need some time to construct a travel spell, and then he could move on to the next phase of his plan._

 _A low rumble like a growl of thunder shook him from his thoughts. Léonere stumbled as the ground beneath him shuddered. In the next moment, towering walls of water had risen from all sides. They grew impossibly fast until even the light of the moon was obscured by the water._

" _The Valar wouldn't dare…"_

 _Clearly they did. They were sinking the island just to kill him. For a moment Léonere wondered if he should be flattered._

 _But the thought vanished into panic as he realized what this meant for him. He did not have the time for a travel spell. And he had no other means of escape._

 _The water continued to stretch towards the sky. Léonere lifted his chin and leered at the shrinking patch of stars still visible. His body would be destroyed, but his spirit would survive. They could not get rid of him so easily._

 _As the last star winked out of existence, the rush of the water crescendoed as the dark mass struck the island, crashing down with bone-shattering force_ —

Léonere woke with a gasp. He sat up and checked his body to make sure it was still intact and dry. It was, if a little dirty. But the memory of the destruction of the city, the water crashing into his body and tearing it apart, had all seemed so _real_. He knew he wasn't imaginative enough to come up with something like that on his own.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Annatar was gazing at him with those mesmerizing eyes.

Léonere hated himself for expecting Alistair to be sitting next to him. Alistair was…

"Yes, I did." He lowered his gaze to the dirt and blood beneath his nails. He'd spent most of the day burying his friend.

"Try and get some rest," Annatar said. "Tomorrow I will tell you about my plan."

Léonere raised his gaze back to his companion. Half a dozen questions tripped over each other in his haze of confusion and exhaustion. "Why? Who—Where did you come from?"

Annatar's expression did not change, but a bright glint entered his eyes that left no room for argument. "Rest, now."

Léonere laid back and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Holly lay perfectly still, her mind blank. She couldn't see or hear anything. She wondered if she had died. A part of her wished for it.

 _I think you may be right—that this will all be worth it in the end._

No, that wasn't right. She could see. The image was branded against her eyelids—the rider's sword cutting through him like he was paper, the way his mouth opened in one final gasp—

 _You're a good person, Holly._

Sticky blood was running from her head to her ear and down to the ground. She couldn't tell where the rock had struck her, or whether or not it had knocked her out.

 _I promise, I won't let him hurt you again._

The energy from her failed spell had already dissipated, but she could still feel the crackling sting of lightning burns on her fingertips, her knees, the soles of her feet.

 _I take back what I said about you being strange. I believe enigma is the better word._

Holly took a deep breath, letting the bandages grip her chest and squeeze against her bruised ribs.

 _I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be fine._

She let out a small cough. The dust from the cave-in hung thick in the air and it swirled into her lungs with each breath.

 _Beautiful, isn't it?_

Where was Thorin? He had been near her when the cave-in happened, but she couldn't see or hear him now. Perhaps he was also...

 _You don't have to do this alone, all right?_

A minute, or an hour, or a day passed—Holly couldn't tell anymore—before shuffling footsteps sounded next to her ear.

"Holly?" came Thorin's voice, raspy from the dust.

"I'm here," she replied, her own voice sounding just as hoarse.

She heard the slight shift of fabric as he knelt down next to her. "Are you hurt?" He sounded as if he was having trouble breathing.

"No," she said, instead of asking why that mattered.

Another stretch of silence flattened itself across the dark of the cave.

Finally, Thorin said, "We should get moving, and try to find a way out of here."

Holly pushed herself up as a thought came to her. She knew how to do that. With shaking limbs, she stood and faced what she hoped was the general direction of the cave-in, holding her arms out. Another deep breath pressed itself against the inside of her lungs. Her cracked lips struggled to form the incantation.

"What are you doing?" Thorin asked from somewhere to her right.

"I'm going to blast the rocks away."

Before she could begin the spell, he grabbed her arm. "If you do that, you'll bring the whole cave down on our heads, _again_." She could hear the anger in his voice, and didn't blame him.

"Why does that matter?" she asked, gaze still turned to the rocks she couldn't see.

Thorin paused and released his grip on her arm. After a minute, he said, "Because the people of Erebor, my kin, your friends, are still out there." Holly couldn't see his face, but his tone was enough for her to picture his drawn brow, the set in his jaw. "You promised you would help me so I could return to my kingdom. And while we still breathe, our task remains unfinished."

His words made sense, but they sounded wrong to her. Yet arguing with him seemed an insurmountable task at the moment, so she lowered her other arm and nodded. Then she realized he couldn't see her and said, "You're right."

"Then we should head deeper into the cave, and see if we can find a way out."

That was wrong. It was all wrong. Holly realized why his words weren't connecting with her—how could he speak of moving on, after what they had seen? It wasn't _right_.

She couldn't leave, but she didn't want to say that outright, so instead she wrapped her arms around her aching chest and said, "My ribs still hurt. I-I still need to rest a while."

Thorin sighed through his nose, and she could hear the tightness in his voice as he said, "All right."

Holly sank down against one of the boulders, and Thorin settled down next to her. It still wasn't right. She should have been crushed under the rocks. Thorin should have left her behind. It was her fault Bilbo was dead.

Anguish filled her like icy water. Holly fell into a statue-like stillness, hating every breath her body drew in. When the veil of sleep finally closed in, the spectre of death still haunted her silent nightmares.

* * *

Thorin had lost loved ones before—so many, and so long ago, that sometimes he had trouble remembering their faces. Each loss was a scar that he knew he would carry for the rest of his life.

But losing Bilbo was more than a wound. It felt as if something had been taken from him, something that he _desperately_ needed, like the ability to breathe or feel stone beneath his feet.

It was all he could do to force himself to keep moving, as he had so many times before.

He knew he couldn't let his vulnerabilities control him. He needed to look after Holly, who clearly couldn't be trusted with her own safety. It was what Bilbo would have wanted. And he would not let him down any more than he already had.

Thorin reached out to wake Holly. She was propped up against a boulder, apparently having finally fallen asleep. "It's time to go."

She was awake within a few moments, and they stood and began walking in silence.

The cave was completely dark, but Thorin could still get a sense for his surroundings. All dwarves were connected to the stone in a way other races weren't.

The cave—more of a tunnel, actually—sloped down at a gradual angle that led them deeper into the earth. The air grew colder and staler around them as they descended.

Thorin worried that they would never find a way back to the surface, that the tunnel would continue to lead them deeper into the earth. He knew Holly carried a similar fear, though she did not speak at all during their descent.

It was then that he turned his thoughts to his kin. His nephews, his sister, his friends...they were all waiting for him in Erebor, depending on him. He would find a way back to them, no matter the cost.

It was hard to keep track of the passage of time as they traveled down the tunnel. There was nothing except the oppressive darkness and the roughness of the rock walls.

When they finally encountered a sign of life, it was not what either of them expected.

* * *

Thorin woke to the sound of rain. Soft drops of water hit the stone in a regular pattern, growing louder with each second. The sound shifted to a more metallic ring, and he jolted awake. There was no rain—the sound was more akin to footsteps, though they came far too fast to belong to a person.

He sat up, his attention immediately focusing on the dull orange glow painting the end of the tunnel in front of them. It grew brighter and closer, the light nearly blinding after spending days in total darkness.

Thorin caught sight of two curved claws silhouetted in the orange light, and moments later, the creature scuttled into sight. He barely had time to take in the enormous red eye as it locked onto him before the creature was upon them, moving impossibly fast.

He did not have time to draw his weapon as it lunged.

 **There's** **going to be a lot of Dark Souls/The Witcher III vibes in the next few chapters. If you don't know anything about that, I hope you'll enjoy it anyway. Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. It helps me out a lot!**


	14. Nothing Left

**Chapter 14: Nothing Left**

Holly woke with a jolt as Thorin shouted out from somewhere to her right. She turned, blinking against a sudden orange light, in time to see him duck under what appeared to be a gigantic bug. She scrambled to her feet as Thorin did the same, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.

The creature before them let out a guttural clicking noise. It was taller than either of them, and moved on four legs, with two pointed appendages raised at the front of its body. Its ridged carapace seemed to give off a strange orange glow. An enormous red eye stared unblinkingly at them.

As adrenaline began flowing through her veins once more, Holly felt the numb stupor she'd been trapped in for days begin to fade away. "What _is_ that?"

"I don't know," Thorin replied, readying his sword as the creature clicked again. "Stay back, Holly."

"I don't need to anymore," she said, more to herself than him.

The monster's claws cut through the air with a _whoosh_ as it lunged at Thorin. He dodged to the side and stabbed at its side, but his blade glanced off its armor.

Holly drew her own sword and focused her attention on its eye. Blinding it would do a great deal of damage, and if she got lucky it might even die from the wound. She started forward and aimed her sword at the eye. But the beast shut its eye and her sword glanced off—it seemed the eyelids were made of the same hard material as the rest of its body.

 _Need to be quicker_. She backed off, searching for another opening.

"Holly!" Thorin shouted, and she looked up in time to see one of its claw-like appendages rushing down to meet her. She raised her sword in time to divert the blow away from her head, and cried out as the tip left a gash down her forearm.

She backed up as Thorin rammed into the monster with his good shoulder, throwing it off balance. The creature clicked angrily as it staggered. Thorin made to strike at its eye, but its eyelids blocked the attack once more.

Holly glanced at her arm and hissed out a curse. A patch of blood was already soaking through her sleeve.

The creature made a clumsy swing at Thorin while still regaining its balance. Thorin dodged easily and then stabbed upwards into the joint connecting the claw to its body. It let out a guttural screech as blood oozed from the joint and the claw fell limply to one side.

Before Thorin could follow up with another strike, the creature turned and scuttled back into the passage from where it had come. Their surroundings faded back into darkness.

Holly let out a breath and leaned against the cave wall. The cut on her arm stung badly, but she'd endured worse.

Thorin flicked the blood off of his sword and rounded on her. "What were you thinking? You could have been killed!"

Despite the shakiness in her limbs, Holly stood up straight and said, "Well, I couldn't just stand by and let you face that thing alone."

"It's what you should have done. Your recklessness will be the death of both of us."

Another wave of hopelessness rose within her, and she wished she hadn't blocked the monster's strike. "You're right. It was foolish of me." Holly could feel her voice rising in volume as well, and did nothing to stop it. "I don't know why I bothered. We're both going to die here in this damned cave, I realize that now. So I do _sincerely apologize_ for making an effort to keep the both of us alive."

"You've given up already," Thorin said, and she almost winced at the mixture of disbelief and anger in his voice. "After _everything_ that we've been through, the promises that you've made...you're willing to let go of all of it."

"Because I'm not delusional. There is nothing left to give up." Her sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground.

"You're wrong," Thorin said, the blaze in his eyes audible. "There is still a future for the both of us, even if we cannot see what it is. If you give up now, you will lose all of that."

"For Eru's sake, you—" _You sound like Bilbo,_ she'd been about to say, and the burning despair in her chest flickered down to a quiet ache.

For the first time, she was glad for the darkness, as it obscured the tears running down her face. She put one hand over her mouth and willed herself to stop crying.

After a moment, Thorin said in a gentler voice, "Let me have a look at your arm."

"It's t-too dark." Holly scrubbed the tears from her face. "Wait a moment." She calmed herself and held one palm out, trying to recall the incantation Léonere had used for the light spell. " _G-Gal_ …" She took a deep breath. " _Gal mîwe cornen._ "

A weak blue light flickered to life in her palm, barely illuminating their surroundings. As she concentrated, the light grew steadier and stronger.

Thorin had already knelt down and was digging through his pack for bandages. She walked over on unsteady legs and sat down next to him. He worked in silence, pushing up her sleeve and bandaging the wound. Holly threw all of her focus into maintaining the light in her palm. As she watched the steady blue rays, a thought occurred to her.

"I know how to kill that creature."

Thorin looked up.

"Its eye is obviously a weak point. But striking it with a physical weapon isn't as effective as we'd hoped. Now, living underground, the creature is obviously used to dim light only, hence the size of its eye. If I'm able to create a bright enough burst of light, it should put the creature into shock at the very least, and give you time to find another weak spot in its armor."

"Couldn't you use another one of your lightning spells?"

"Well, I'd like to refrain from causing another cave-in." Holly looked up at him. "What do you think?"

"It might work. But let's hope it doesn't come to that. We may not see the creature again."

"Right." Holly resisted the urge to scratch at her bandage. If they encountered the creature again, she knew she would fight against it with Thorin, and try to keep them both alive. At this point only survival instinct accounted for that. She still wasn't sure if that was a gift or a curse.

* * *

"We're moving south," Annatar told Léonere the next morning when he woke.

"Why?"

"The magical energy is stronger there. Can't you feel it?"

"No."

Annatar smiled enigmatically. "There's much you have yet to learn."

Once Léonere had fully woken enough to give more than monosyllabic responses, he asked, "Why me? Who are you, and how did you find me?" He had another dozen questions pressing on his tongue, but he thought it best to ask only a few at a time.

"I have a...sensitivity, one could say, for magical auras. I was traveling nearby and yours caught my attention." Annatar gestured for him to begin walking as he spoke. "You have remarkable potential for magic."

"You're traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"And what exactly do you want with my magic?"

Annatar turned to him with a sharp glance. "Don't let me mislead you. I believe my plan will benefit the both of us."

"Then what's your plan?"

"You're aware of the events that took place near the end of the Second Age, yes?"

Léonere tried to recollect the ancient history he had studied. "The War of the Last Alliance?"

"Earlier than that. I speak of the destruction of Númenor and the Changing of the World."

"I know of it."

Annatar's gaze grew distant, his eyes staring at something far past the trees. "That day, the land of Aman was removed from the world forever. It lies on a separate plane, one that cannot be accessed by mortals."

"Are you a mage?" Léonere asked. That would explain quite a bit, from the man's knowledge of magic and history to his enigmatic nature.

"I'd describe myself more as a scholar," Annatar said with a thin smile. "I don't concern myself with the basic forms of magic mages have grown accustomed to."

"Then what _do_ you concern yourself with?" Léonere asked, feeling slightly annoyed at his condescension.

" _Existence_. Every seven years, the stars align and the barriers between worlds grow thin and weak. I have seen beyond the veils of time and space, and into worlds yet unknown to our own." Annatar turned to him, his eyes filling once more with that mesmerizing glow. "What if I told you there was a way to overthrow those barriers? To access the lands forbidden to mortals?"

"W-What are you saying?"

"Well, I'm certainly not implying that we should find a way to travel to Aman," Annatar said, rolling his eyes, and the light was gone. "That would be suicide. But there are other worlds that even the old texts do not speak of. I'm sure a man such as yourself can appreciate why a discovery such as this would be revolutionary."

Léonere opened his mouth to speak, but Annatar continued, "Opening a gateway to another world would require a tremendous amount of magical energy, which is why I've been searching for someone like you." He locked eyes with him. "I cannot do this alone."

"I…"

"Have I answered all of your questions?"

"Yes, I suppose," Léonere said. "For now," he added. He needed time to process everything he'd been told.

"Then will you help me? Together we could change history." Annatar gave him a tentative but rather charming smile.

Perhaps this was what Léonere needed—a goal to help carry him forward despite the grief in his heart. He needed to believe that there was still wonder to be discovered in the world—or rather, other worlds. "Yes, I will help you."

At this, Annatar smiled even wider and said, "Excellent." He turned to face the rays of the rising sun. "I think you and I are going to have quite a bit of fun."

* * *

The tunnel was eerily silent as they continued. The presence of the monster and any other unknown creatures potentially lurking in the dark had them both on edge.

Thorin was grateful for the light Holly's magic provided. Before, they had relied on his awareness of the stone surrounding them, but it was more convenient to be able to use his eyes as well.

As they descended, the tunnel grew more irregular, though it never shrank too much for them to pass through. It also lacked any branching tunnels, which meant that the creature, wherever it was, remained somewhere farther down their path.

After a while, they entered an area that resembled a cavern. The ceiling stretched to about fifteen or twenty feet in height, and about thirty feet in length and width. Piles of rock were littered about the cavern.

"Strange," Holly said, gazing up at the ceiling of the cave, which was worn smooth. "There's no evidence of a recent cave-in here. Where do you suppose those rocks came from?"

Thorin walked closer to one. "These aren't rocks."

"What?"

Instead of responding, he reached one hand out and placed it on the surface of the closest one. He was disturbed to find it warm to the touch, while the air in the cavern was cool.

Holly walked over and copied his movements. She furrowed her brow.

"They're not made of stone," Thorin said. "I'm not sure how to explain it to you, but these feel different."

"I believe you." She scoffed in disgust. "Oh. I can hazard a guess as to what these are."

"What?"

"We've stumbled into a nest. The creature we encountered earlier—these are likely its eggs."

Thorin took a step back and surveyed the cavern once more. "There are hundreds of them here."

"Well, bugs tend to lay a lot of eggs. Rather ingenious of it, though, to disguise its eggs as rocks."

Ingenious wasn't the word he would use. Thorin turned and headed for the back of the cavern. "Watch where you step."

They hadn't made it halfway through before a scuttling noise reached their ears. The light in Holly's hand flickered. Thorin cursed and drew his sword. He turned and sent a warning glare in Holly's direction. "I need you to _actually_ stay back this time."

She scowled in response but nodded anyway. "And we're going with my plan?"

Thorin sighed and turned back to the sound of the beast's approach. "Yes. Just keep your distance and wait for my signal."

The creature appeared from the tunnel and locked its eye on Thorin. It gave a series of clicks that sounded more like a snarl and started towards him. He recognized the bleeding, damaged claw and hoped that meant the creature was the only one of its kind in the area.

He dodged its first strike, searching for a weak point in its armor. Besides the gaps near its claws and its eye, he could find nothing.

As the damaged claw swung by him, Thorin took hold of it and yanked it away from the body. A spurt of thin orange blood erupted from the wound and the creature let out a high whistling noise.

But apparently even cave-dwelling bugs learned, and the creature abandoned attacking with its claws in favor of slamming its body against him. Thorin flew backwards and crashed into one of the egg piles. He winced as a thick, sticky substance oozed from the broken eggshells beneath him.

The creature loomed above him, and that was when Thorin saw the gap between its armor and its leg. At the right angle, he could deliver a blow that would hopefully kill the creature.

The creature raised its claw to strike. The light in the cavern went out, leaving only the glow of the creature's armor. A moment later Holly said, " _Gwelu perien cornae forven!_ "

A sharp gust of air whistled past and slammed into the beast, causing it to tumble away from him and crash into another pile of eggs.

"Sorry about the light," Holly said from somewhere to his left. "I can only do one spell at a time. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Thorin said, readjusting his grip on his sword and pushing himself to his feet. "I've found its weak spot. When I give the word, use your magic."

He held his breath and listened as the creature scuttled to his feet and clicked, then began moving towards him. He waited until it was mere feet away.

"Now!"

" _Gal mîwe cornen!_ "

Thorin shielded his eyes, but even so the flash of light was nearly blinding. The creature let out another whistle and Thorin opened his eyes in time to see the creature stagger. He wasted no time in rushing forward and jamming his blade into the gap below the creature's leg, twisting it in an attempt to do as much damage as possible.

More blood poured from the wound. The creature clicked and fell to the ground, but Thorin didn't stop. He drove his sword again and again into the wound he had created, each strike only serving to fuel the wild anger that possessed him. After a while, he stopped, and the creature lay still.

He took a deep breath, trying not to shake. _Calm yourself_.

Thorin jerked his sword from the creature's body as Holly walked over. He could feel the sweat running down his neck mingle with the slime from the eggs he had broken.

Without warning, Holly reached up and grabbed something from his shoulder, then threw it to the ground and smashed it with her foot. Thorin looked down to see the twitching body of one of the small creatures from the eggs.

"Let's go. I don't want to find out how fast those things can move," Holly said, stepping over one of the dead monster's legs and heading for the tunnel entrance on the other side of the cavern.

Thorin wiped some of the egg slime from his face and arms and moved to follow her.

Once they reached the entrance, Holly hesitated and turned back to the cavern. "We shouldn't leave those there," she said, seemingly more to herself than him. "Once they hatch, they could follow us."

She held out one hand in the direction of the eggs and said, " _Naur perien rammas forven_."

The nearest pile erupted into flames. The fire spread to the others, and soon the whole cavern was ablaze. They watched it burn for a moment, then turned to go.

It wasn't until the flickering of the flames had faded behind them that Thorin finally spoke.

"We have to keep fighting. You can't let this grief consume you."

"That's easy for you to say," Holly said, the sharpness returning to her voice. "I-I can't shut it away like you can." The light in her palm wavered.

Thorin stopped walking, and Holly turned to face him. "I haven't shut it away. Every moment I spend knowing I have lost him forever fills me with _pain_." He heard his voice break, but pressed on. "The only reason I am able to continue is because I know I have no other choice."

The light had faded to a dim glow. When Holly did not respond, he said, "Do you understand? There is only one path for us, and that is forward."

She was silent for a while longer, and then said, with venom in her voice, "Whatever keeps me walking, hm?"

Thorin had no answer to that. He could not force her to change her outlook on their situation. All he could do was ensure that they kept each other alive. He knew now that he needed her as much as she needed him, though neither of them would ever admit it aloud.

And that, hopefully, would be enough to see them both through this nightmare.


	15. A Last Resort

**Chapter 15: A Last Resort**

"We'll need to find a source of water soon," Thorin said, weighing one of his waterskins.

Holly looked up from where she'd been taking stock of the food in her pack.

"We're running low," Thorin said, apparently seeing something on her face that prompted an explanation.

"Food's doing fine," she said, lowering her gaze back to her bag.

They'd taken to checking their packs every so often, to break the silence and have something to look at other than the unchanging rock walls.

"This is a bit like Mirkwood," Holly said, fiddling with the straps of her pack as she leaned against the cave wall.

"How do you mean?"

"It feels like we're never going to get out of here. We're stuck in darkness all day. Walking through the same landscape." Then, without meaning to, she said, "I wish the others were here. The Company."

"As do I," Thorin said.

Holly pulled her knees up to her chest. If they were here, Bofur would be making jokes and Gloin would be tending to the fire and Dori would be mending clothes and Bilbo…

Steel glinted in sunlight. "I'm going to kill them."

Thorin lifted his head and looked at her. "Who?"

"The riders. We're not getting out of here, but if we do, I'm going to kill all of them."

"I'll help you."

"Don't bother. Just worry about your kingdom. Hypothetically speaking."

Thorin shook his head. "He was my friend, too. I have as much of a right to vengeance as you do."

Holly let out a humorless laugh. "Probably more, actually, seeing as this is all my fault."

"That's not true. I was the one who led everyone out here. It was on your word, yes, but I made the decision to trust you."

"One of your less intelligent decisions, honestly. You were right in sending me away from Erebor. You should have kicked me out the moment I came back."

A minute of silence ticked by, then Thorin said, "When I banished you from Erebor, I was not in my right mind."

 _He doesn't know_ , she remembered. If he knew about her connection to Smaug, would he still trust her? Would he even want to look at her?

"Neither was I." She chose her words carefully. "After Smaug attacked Laketown, I started feeling…" She gestured to her head. "Wrong."

"You saw your home destroyed," Thorin said, as though finally realizing the weight of that event. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully as well as he said, "The wounds that come from something like that...can take a long time to heal."

Holly nodded, absentmindedly rubbing the scar on her left hand. She sensed that Thorin was about to say something else and shut her pack, the leather straps snapping against the fabric.

"We've been sitting here for a while. We should go," she said, standing up.

Thorin copied her movements, and they pressed on, moving farther into the shadows and the depths of the earth.

* * *

"Have you ever been to Dol Guldur?"

Léonere met Annatar's inquiry with raised eyebrows. They'd been traveling together for weeks, and he still hadn't gotten used to the man's strange choice of conversation. "Of course not. Why do you ask?"

"As a method of introduction," Annatar said with a glint in his eye. His mysterious demeanor had faded as of late and was replaced by an almost impish humor.

"Then I assume you've been there."

"I have." Annatar turned to the shadow of Mirkwood, which loomed to the west. "A number of years ago, I visited the fortress, to learn more about it."

"But the whole area is cursed," Léonere said. "Not to mention it lies in the middle of Mirkwood, which also carries dark magic. How did you survive?"

"As I said before, I am able to sense magical auras. That kept me safe." At Léonere's silence, Annatar turned to face him. "Why do you doubt me?"

"I—"

"Have I given you any reason to distrust me?"

"No—"

"I should hope not," he said, his tone lighter. "If we are to work together, we must have trust in each other."

"Right." Léonere brushed off his uneasiness. He was right, after all. "Continue with your story, then."

"Ah. Perhaps another time." A minute of silence shuffled by before he said, "Though I wouldn't mind telling you about my time in the north. I was near the Ice-Bay of Forochel. The locals were having trouble with some undead in the area, so I offered my services. There was obviously a necromancer nearby, but the trick was finding him."

"Of course."

"I managed to locate the general area where he was hiding, but he'd cast a spell to conceal his specific whereabouts."

"So what did you do?"

"I'm sure you know that all magic leaves behind minute traces of energy. I spent weeks mapping out where he'd cast his magic, and discovered that he'd been working in a circle around one of the villages, and that he worked according to the phases of the moon. This, of course, helped me predict the next place he would appear."

"And you found him?"

"And killed him."

The casual manner in which Annatar spoke about it, as though describing which tavern he'd gone to, made Léonere frown. "Didn't you talk to him at all? Try and find out why he had been raising the dead?"

Annatar gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I didn't see the need for it. The villagers tasked me with solving a problem, and I did as they asked." He turned to Léonere and the look he gave him was almost amused. "Does that bother you?"

He sighed. "I don't understand why killing would be anything other than a last resort. If you'd spared the necromancer's life, and found his motives for raising the dead, perhaps you could have convinced him to stop."

He expected Annatar to scoff at him, but instead the man nodded slowly and said, "Perhaps you are right. Then no one else would have had to die. But say I had spared his life, and he had tried to kill me anyway. What do you suppose I should have done then?"

"You would have to defend yourself, and...possibly kill him anyway."

"Precisely. I did not wish to risk the man trying to kill me, so I struck first." He lowered his voice and said, "If I had known to do that earlier, perhaps I…"

When Annatar did not continue, Léonere looked over to see that his expression had become grave.

"I lost a dear friend because I had not the wherewithal to defend her."

With a sudden pang, Léonere remembered Alistair, telling him to run, his eyes, staring at nothing...perhaps he could have saved him, if he hadn't let fear take over.

"I-I'm sorry." He wasn't sure what he was apologizing about.

"No need to be sorry," Annatar said with a sad smile. "We suffer and we learn from our suffering. That is one fact of life we cannot escape."

"True enough." His heart was heavy as his grief resurfaced, but Léonere was able to take a small amount of comfort in the humanity his companion had revealed. Perhaps they were not so different.

He would continue to suffer, then and grow wiser from it. He knew the world ahead was dangerous, but if he could survive and learn from it, he saw no reason to hesitate from pushing forward.

* * *

They'd finally come across a crossroads in the tunnels. An opening in one of the walls revealed a larger tunnel that met theirs before curving away again.

"What do you think?" Holly asked, stepping through the opening and gazing at the top of the other tunnel's ceiling. It was a good twenty feet taller than the tunnel they'd been travelling through. "Should we try this one?"

Thorin stepped beside her and followed her gaze. "This one isn't naturally made. See how it's consistently the same shape throughout?"

Holly frowned and surveyed the tunnel once more. "Is that bad?"

"Not necessarily." Thorin moved past her into the tunnel. "I see no evidence that this tunnel was recently used. We'll just have to be on the lookout for any more creatures."

Holly gestured with one hand. "Lead the way, then."

They continued on the upward slope, hoping it would lead them to the surface.

She craned her head up to study the ceiling of the tunnel. "Who do you suppose built this tunnel? It doesn't look very old."

"It must have been a skilled group of workers. This is no goblin tunnel. Though it is strange that they neglected to flatten the bottom."

Thorin was right. The tunnel floor was perfectly rounded, just like the rest of it. Its odd formation bothered her, though a part of her knew it wouldn't matter in the end what shape the tunnel was.

"How's your arm?" Thorin asked.

"Healing," she replied. "Thank you for patching me up."

"You're welcome."

Holly wanted to say something more, but there was only void on her tongue. Perhaps there was nothing more to say than short, formal dialogue with only what was necessary passed between them.

They had been walking for a few hours when a rumbling noise made them pause. It sounded as if the earth was growling.

"You heard that too?" Thorin asked.

"Yes."

The noise was getting louder, and seemed to be originating from above. As it approached, the very earth began to shake. Small pebbles began to bounce at their feet.

"Come on. Run!" Thorin gestured for her to follow.

They were driven deeper into the earth once more. Holly realized the slope of the tunnel was getting steeper, too—but didn't think anything of it until her foot caught against a rock and sent her tumbling down the slope.

After getting a thorough bruising from the rocks, she managed to put her feet out and halt her descent. Thorin caught up to her as she brushed some gravel from her smarting chin.

"Are you all right?"

Holly mumbled an affirmation as she pushed herself to her feet. The rumbling was almost deafening now, and she rekindled the light in her palm so she could identify its source.

All that was visible because of its massive size were five enormous, hook-shaped teeth encircling smaller rows of teeth and a massive gullet. The teeth must have belonged to a worm of some kind, and it was tunneling straight towards them. Holly cursed and doubled her pace down the tunnel.

"This way!" Thorin grabbed her arm and pulled her through a small gap in the stone that she had missed entirely.

The gap led to a narrow passage. They shuffled through as fast as they could as the thundering of the beast's movement reached a crescendo. After a few minutes the rumbling began to fade, then receded into silence.

The next minute was filled only with their heavy breathing. Thorin's hand was still clasped around her arm, and after a moment he released his grip. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she said. "You saved both our lives. I never would have known that this," she patted the stone wall with one hand, "was there."

"Well, that path is not safe for us now, so we'll have to continue this way." Thorin turned and continued down the passageway.

Holly let out a sharp breath as she followed him. That might have been their only chance to make it back to the surface.

After knocking her shoulder against a protruding rock, she summoned another ball of light so she could see where she was going. "That must have been a were-worm."

"A what?"

"I've read about them, but they've only ever been described as myths. Gigantic worm-like creatures that carve massive tunnels through the earth. I probably should have guessed as much from the shape of the tunnel, and the ridiculous amount of large bugs we've encou—"

Thorin threw a hand out, stopping her. "Put out your light."

"Why?"

"Do you smell that?"

Holly realized he had one hand on the hilt of his sword and snuffed her light out. She took a deep breath and recognized the pungent, rotting odor coming from the other end of the tunnel. She'd only encountered it once before, but it was hard to forget. "Goblins."

"Stay on your guard." Thorin began moving forward at a slower pace.

"I can't exactly do that if I can't see anything," Holly muttered to herself.

That was soon remedied, however, as the dull glow of firelight appeared farther down the tunnel. After making sure the light was not drawing closer, Thorin gestured for her to follow closely.

Farther down the tunnel, there were three goblins sitting with their weapons at their feet. They hadn't noticed them yet.

"I'll take care of them," Holly whispered, inching farther into the cave. She concentrated on the campfire in the middle of the group. " _Naur perien cornen osa_." The campfire rapidly swelled to three times its size, engulfing the goblins in flame before they even had time to cry out.

They advanced into the cavern, surveying the goblins as the embers scattering the floor began to flicker and die.

"Good work," Thorin said, and almost immediately after cursed and reached for his sword.

Holly spun around and found one of the goblins reaching for the crude horn on its belt. Despite the blackened burns covering its front, it managed to bring the horn to its lips. Before either of them could stop it, a resounding call echoed throughout the cavern.

Thorin stabbed his sword through the goblin's chest and it collapsed back to the ground, but the damage had already been done. Already, they could hear a chorus of squawks answering the call of the goblin's horn.

Besides the tunnel through which they had entered, there were two more leading from the small cave where the goblins had made their outpost. Both were beginning to flicker with torchlight.

"Take the left one," Thorin said, pulling his sword from the goblin's chest and moving to stand in front of the right tunnel.

Holly followed his instructions and readied another spell. As the first group of goblins became visible at the end of the tunnel, she felt her nerves begin to tremble. She hadn't fared well against the orcs, and though goblins weren't quite as strong, she knew their sheer numbers could easily overpower her.

"Whatever happens, don't let them past the tunnel entrance," Thorin said. "We need to keep them bottlenecked in the smaller space."

"Right." Holly straightened up and moved closer to the tunnel. At the very least, she wasn't facing the goblins alone. She glanced over to see him already taking a swing at the first goblin and slicing its head clean off.

 _Focus_. She turned back and was startled to see that the goblins were nearly upon her.

Her reaction was instinctive. " _Galthel perien ceberis forven_." The first five goblins were knocked back, shrieking as the lightning sliced through skin and muscle. The ones behind them paid no heed to the suffering of their comrades, simply climbing over them. Holly repeated the incantation, knocking back one that had been preparing to impale her with its crude spear. It flew back and slammed into a group behind it, forcing them to all fall back.

This gave her a few seconds to take a breath and assess her situation. The group in her tunnel was small, and she could already see the end of the crowd. Although she knew how many she would have to fight, that didn't change the fact that she had thirty or so goblins to kill before they did the same to her.

" _Lumëa perien faun forven_." A thick black shroud descended upon the tunnel, briefly sending the goblins into chaos as they stumbled around in the sudden dark. Not even their torches were able to pierce the darkness. She sent another blast of lightning into the gloom and was rewarded with another bout of cries.

Already she was beginning to tire from her efforts, though she was pleased with how long she'd been able to last. She readied one last spell, but paused as she heard the cries of the goblins begin to recede. They were fleeing.

Holly let out a breath. She had won. For the first time in what must have been months, she felt a small glimmer of satisfaction lift her lips.

But when she turned to see how Thorin was faring, she felt her smile drop. He was struggling to contain the goblins in his tunnel, having only one sword and one arm to defend himself against the horde. She could see at least five spears jostling for room at the entrance. With an upward arc of his sword, Thorin sliced off the tips of three of the crude weapons.

The movement, however, left his torso wide open and vulnerable to the goblin that had crawled between the legs of his compatriots. Holly wasn't fast enough to stop it from lunging upward with its long knife.

"No!" The cry ripped itself from her lungs a split second before the goblin jerked its knife out of Thorin's torso, a long line of blood following it. He gasped and stumbled backwards, and the goblins leaped upon him.

A wordless shout of rage left her mouth as she rushed forward, drawing her sword and stabbing the first goblin she could get her hands on.

More were trying to make their way into the cave, stumbling over each other in their bloodlust.

" _Cae perien rammas eria_!" A wall of stone slammed upwards, blocking the tunnel entrance. A couple goblins were crushed between the wall and the ceiling of the cave, the crunching of their bones disturbingly audible over the cries of the others.

That left five in the cave with them. Holly pushed another one off of Thorin, driving her sword into its chest. As she turned to kill another, she felt the tip of a sword snag her shirt, barely missing her torso. She parried the goblin's next blow slashed its neck.

A weight collided with her back and sent her sprawling onto her stomach. Her sword skidded out of her reach and slid to a stop a few feet away. She could feel the wet, hot breath of a goblin as it grabbed at her neck from behind and pushed her face into the ground. She struggled uselessly for a moment as its long fingernails scraped against her skin, then managed to roll them both over so she was on top.

The goblin writhed, sharp knees jolting against her back as it wriggled out from under her. They both lunged for her sword, then the goblin changed course and tackled her again. She snatched a stone from the ground and smashed it into his eye. Dark blood ran down one side of its face as it howled and lunged for her again. She braced one hand against his shoulder and brought the rock down upon its face again and again until it stopped struggling under her grip.

Holly panted, her torso sagging as the adrenaline high began to fade. But she couldn't rest just yet. She turned back to find that Thorin had managed to kill the rest of the goblins. He was trying to sit up and breathing heavily, one hand clasped over the wound in his torso.

"Oh, no." She pushed herself up and rushed over to his side. "Let me see."

Thorin grimaced and lifted his hand. Blood was oozing out of a two-inch wound that lay just below the bottom of his ribcage.

"Dammit." She stood and nearly tripped over one of the dead goblins. "Hold on, I'll go find something to patch you up." She sprinted over to where they'd left their packs and ripped open Thorin's, throwing out packets of food and empty waterskins. She set aside a roll of bandages and a full waterskin, but by the time she'd emptied the pack entirely she still hadn't found the sutures. "Sutures, sutures, where the _fuck_ are the sutures?"

There was no time to keep looking. Holly grabbed the bandages and water and ran back to where Thorin was. When she returned, he was lying down and his grip on his wound had loosened.

"All right." She knelt down and used one of the goblins' knives to cut away the fabric of his shirt, careful to keep the blade away from the wound. She was surprised by the steadiness of her hands as she cleaned the blood away and pressed a bandage over the stab wound.

"Have you done this before?" Thorin asked, speaking far too softly for her comfort.

"N-Not with a wound this severe. I know how to treat it, in theory, but…" She trailed off and cursed. Blood was soaking into the bandage far too quickly for her liking. She took one hand away to grab another bandage and carefully traded it for the soiled one.

Holly cast a glance at Thorin's face and found that his eyes were drifting shut. "No, no, stay awake, please. Uh…" She racked her brain for something to talk about that didn't involve blood or goblins or dying. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he replied, still speaking softly. "Just great."

"C-Can you tell me about...music? Yes. What's your favorite kind of music?" She tried to keep the trembling out of her voice as she replaced his bandage again. "And be sure to go into detail."

"Hm," Thorin said, and for a moment she wasn't sure if he was thinking or too weak to articulate his words. When he did speak, his voice was slurred and weak. "I've always enjoyed ballads. The slower ones. It's nice to be able to hear a story in such a rhythmic form."

"That's nice. That's good." Holly's hands began to tremble as she realized she was running out of bandages. "Thorin, y-you're bleeding quite a lot, and I'm not sure how to make it stop."

"You've been applying pressure?"

"Yes."

He met her eyes and the quiet resignation in his gaze made her heart stutter. "Holly, I want you to try and make it back to Erebor. T-Tell Fíli and Kíli—"

" _No_ , you can tell them your damn self." With shaking hands, she picked up the last bandage and laid it over his wound.

One unsteady hand reached out and laid over hers. "Listen to me—"

"No!" Her voice had risen to nearly a shriek. "J-Just shut up, you can't die yet." She sat back on her heels, scrubbing her hands over her face and smearing blood over her cheeks. There had to be _something_ else she could do.

Magic. It had become her one salvation in the cruel dark of the caves. Holly pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to remember the incantation Léonere had used to heal Bilbo's leg.

"Right." She turned to see Thorin's eyes drifting shut again. "No, no, please stay awake." She reached out and shook him gently, and his eyes started open again, though they were glassy and unfocused. "I-I'm going to try something else now."

Holly placed her hands above his wound and closed her eyes. " _Gala mîwan f...faun ostri._ " She opened her eyes and found nothing—no ethereal light, just more blood. She tried again. " _Gala mîwan faun ostri._ " And again.

Frustration welled up like bile. Thorin's eyes had closed, and when she reached out to touch his face, his skin felt clammy. Tears welled up in her eyes as she repeated the incantation.

 _Stay calm. Focus._

But focus had eluded her once more, and her energy was failing her. If she was unable to complete the spell in time, Thorin would die and she would be left all alone. Even if she did manage it, there was a possibility that the wound was infected and she would end up killing him.

Though perhaps mercy was the kindest option. In death, there was no grief, and the darkness of the cave would mean nothing. And if he left her alone, it would not be for long.

A shaky sob escaped her lips and Holly bowed her head as tears began to flow freely through the smeared blood on her face.

 _I can't. I can't._

 _But I have to._

Holly took a deep breath, repositioning her hands and enunciated the incantation as clearly as she could manage.

" _Gala mîwan faun ostri._ "

She gasped and nearly lost focus as a light appeared beneath her hands. Though her eyes remained closed, she was able to see it behind her eyelids as it spread, forming veins and muscle and bone beneath her fingertips.

The light was weak and flickering in the area over the wound. When she concentrated, the area began to grow brighter, though at a maddeningly slow pace. The wound had shrunk to about half its size when she felt her arms begin to tremble with the effort.

A stabbing pain shot through her temples, nearly throwing her out of focus. Holly forced herself to press on even as the pain grew stronger. She knew she was pushing herself far past her limits, but she would be damned if she didn't do everything she could to save Thorin's life.

The wound was almost completely closed when the pain became too great and she jerked out of her trance with a gasp. Warm blood began to run from her nose.

"Dammit." She reached up to wipe some of it away and forced her blurring vision to focus on Thorin's face. His eyes were still closed and he looked peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. She reached over to tap his face. "Thorin. Thorin. Open your eyes. I healed you."

His eyes remained closed, his skin cold.

"P-Please." More tears and blood began to run down her face as her arm gave out and she slumped onto her side. "Wake up."

Already she could feel exhaustion creeping like a plague through her body, numbing her aching feet and knees, the sensation of drying blood on her fingertips, and finally the pain clamped like a vice on her skull. With her last vestige of strength she reached out and placed one hand on Thorin's arm, as if the contact would somehow coax him back to consciousness.

"Don't leave me here alone..."

 **I promise, Leonere and Annatar's relationships (and other antics) will become relevant to Holly's story later on. Leonere needs a lot of work before I can merge the two plot lines.** **Annatar has some interesting stories, huh? What a guy**

 **But to get back to the** **were worm** **elephant in the room...this last scene was also something I planned to write from the beginning. All of this is necessary and I promise it will all pay off! Even if you guys might want to kill me right now...**

 **Thanks to everyone still reading this and I would really appreciate it if you could leave a comment about what you think of this fic. Until next time!**


	16. Who You Are

**Chapter 16: Who You Are**

Léonere woke one night to find himself alone. He sat up, brushing dirt from the back of his head. "Annatar?"

The other man and his belongings were nowhere to be seen. But far off, he could hear the murmur of unfamiliar voices. He stood up, scanning the area where they had stopped to rest. The vast plains were empty, but in the shadow of the trees of Mirkwood, he could see the dim glint of firelight.

His heart jumped at the prospect of finding other people. Though Léonere was not alone in his travels, Annatar would at times become strangely detached or altogether silent during their conversations. Sometimes it felt as if he were talking to himself.

Léonere made his way towards the firelight, a strange tension releasing from his chest as he heard the voices of three men. He found them a little ways inside the forest, seated around the campfire. Though there was no food in sight, the smell of roasted meat lingered in the air.

"Damn forest," said one, taking his pipe out of his mouth so he could spit at the ground. "I'll barely be able to get any sleep if these trees keep creakin' like that."

"It's 'cause the forest is haunted," said another, a lanky man with a gold ring through one nostril. "There's an old fortress in there, full of ghosts. They come out at night and possess the trees."

"Bullshit. There's no such thing as ghosts. It's just the wind."

"You hear any wind right now? I'm telling you, it's the ghosts."

"Well, maybe we can give them a human sacrifice, keep 'em quiet," the man with the pipe drew his knife and brandished it in the other man's face.

The third man spoke, and Léonere started when he realized his eyes were trained on him. "What do you think, stranger? Do you believe in ghosts?"

The two that had been arguing started and spun around, their eyes locking onto Léonere as well. The lanky man drew his knife.

"I-I didn't mean to eavesdrop." Léonere held his hands out and stepped into the clearing. The two closest to him did not lower their weapons. "I've been traveling out here for weeks, just me and another man. It's been a while since I've seen some friendly faces."

The third man grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. He sat with his arms crossed, making no move for the long sword strapped to his waist. "We look friendly, do we? Well, you are welcome to have a seat by our fire." He stood up and walked over to Léonere, holding out one hand. "The name's Geth. Nice to meet ya."

Léonere let out a small sigh of relief as the other two stood up and sheathed their weapons. He took Geth's hand, smiling through the other man's uncomfortably tight grip. "Thank you. I'm Léo—"

He was cut off as Geth's fist slammed into his gut, doubling him over. A hard shove to his shoulder sent him sprawling to the ground. The lanky man was by his side in an instant, holding a dagger to his throat as his companion roughly searched his pockets.

"Where's your friend?" Geth asked.

"I-I don't know," Léonere said. He let in a sharp breath through his nose as the knife on his throat pressed down. "I swear, I swear. He was gone when I woke up."

The man searching him sighed and held up his small bag of coins. "This all you got?"

Léonere knew they meant to kill him once they had no more use for him. He would have to convince them to at least let him stand, so he could try and make a run for it. "No, no. There's more in my pack. It's out in the fields."

"Where?" Geth's stare had turned to hard steel.

"I-I'll show you."

For a moment, Léonere feared they would simply slit his throat and look for it themselves. Then Geth gave a gap-toothed chuckle and said, "Go on, then."

He was roughly pulled to his feet and shoved so hard he almost fell over again. Léonere began walking quickly towards the fields, hoping to put some space between him and the other men, but the man with the knife followed him so closely he could feel his breath on the back of his neck.

They were nearly at the place where he'd dropped his pack when Léonere realized he could not put off this fight any longer. He didn't want to hurt them, but he had no other choice. He stopped walking, wincing when he felt the tip of a knife at the back of his neck.

"What's the hold up? Keep mo—"

" _Rawyn perien rammas hârvos_."

The men cried out a blast of thunder threw them backwards. Léonere shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears. The spell had been directed behind him, so he hadn't received half as much damage as the thieves, but it still made his head pound for a few seconds after.

Léonere ran over to his pack and slung it over his shoulder. Annatar was still nowhere to be seen. He didn't want to leave him behind, but there was no time to wait.

Even as he turned to look back at the thieves, Geth was struggling to his feet while his lackeys were still writhing on the ground and holding their heads. Geth locked eyes with Léonere and drew his sword.

"Oh, damn." Léonere turned and ran. Geth would still be off balance from the blast, and even with his pack he might be able to outrun him.

Something hard slammed into the back of his head. He fell to the ground once more, chin bumping against the dirt. Léonere groaned as a stone half the size of his fist fell to the ground next to his head.

"Shame for you I have good aim," Geth said from behind him.

Léonere tensed up as he heard the scrape of a sword being drawn. He rolled over onto his back and tried to push himself to his feet, but Geth shoved him back down and held the tip of his sword to his throat.

"What are you, some kind of wizard?" The sword pressed closer, and Léonere pushed himself backwards, breathing hard. "What did you do to them?"

"I-I was only defending myself," Léonere said, scrambling for something to say that would allow him to escape unharmed. "Please, if you let me go now I won't hurt you."

Geth chuckled. "You need to get better at giving threats, boy." He shifted his sword and raised it, the tip aimed at Léonere's chest.

Léonere narrowly avoided being stabbed as he rolled to the side. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled away as Geth jerked the sword from the ground.

"Kill him." The sound of a new voice caused Léonere to snap his head to the right. Annatar was standing there, his gaze a murky brown. "Before he kills you."

Geth paid no heed to Annatar. He swung his sword once as he advanced, creating a silver arc in the moonlight.

 _No._ He could stun him, as he had done with the others. There was no reason to take his life.

Léonere froze in place, hesitating. But if he showed him mercy, there was a chance he would regroup with the others and pursue him.

 _Are you willing to take that chance?_

Geth raised his sword as Léonere raised his hand and shouted an incantation.

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven!_ "

There was a bright flash, a crack of heat, and Geth fell backwards, the front of his chest charred and smoking.

Something like a whimper rose from Léonere's throat as he watched him for any signs of life. The thief lay still.

"I was wondering when you were going to do that," Annatar said, walking up to him.

Léonere brought one hand up to the throbbing bruise on the back of his head. "I shouldn't have. I-I could have knocked him out—"

"And then he would have pursued you anyway. You did the right thing."

"Where were you?" Léonere asked, his eyes still focused on the body.

"Looking around." Annatar sounded impatient. "It's not as if I could have done anything against the bandits. You have to understand," he stepped closer, and Léonere finally turned to face him. "You are the more capable of the two of us when it comes to combat. I know it was different with your previous friend, but it's time for you to step into the role of the protector."

A sudden lump came to Léonere's throat. If Alistair were still here, he would not have feared the bandits. He would not have had to kill them either.

"He kept you weak," Annatar continued. "I mean no disrespect. Sometimes the people who love you the most will hurt you without meaning to. But now that you're free of that weakness, you can thrive. Do you understand?" Then, in a softer tone, "I need you to be strong for me. For us."

Léonere swallowed hard and nodded. Annatar was right. It was time for him to stop depending on others to protect him. If the blood on his hands kept him from losing anyone else, then he would accept his new role.

* * *

Thorin woke to complete darkness and silence. He blinked once, twice, but the darkness persisted. This was not what he had expected death to be like.

As he tried to sit up, a dull pain in his abdomen made him pause. The sharp agony from his stab wound had faded to the ache one might feel from a bruise. When he tried to check his injury, he paused again at the limp weight atop his forearm.

Thorin reached out, hesitant, and felt the fabric of someone's shirt, and beneath it, a familiar bony arm.

"Holly?"

No response.

Thorin grunted slightly as he sat up and felt his wound. The skin had completely closed up under the dried blood surrounding the area. But that was impossible…

His senses began to clear, and he realized they were still in the cave where they had fought the goblins. How had he survived? He remembered telling Holly to return to Erebor, her frantic voice pleading for him to stay alive, his body going numb, but after that his memory grew hazy.

Thorin reached out and shook her shoulder. "Holly."

Her skin was warm but she was still as death and her breathing was worryingly shallow. He took her pulse and found it to be steady, but she did not stir.

Thorin tried to push himself to his feet and stumbled. However he had miraculously survived his injury, it was clear that he had lost a great deal of blood.

It was dangerous to fall asleep, with the threat of more goblins in the tunnels, but exhaustion had already coaxed him back to the ground.

As his thoughts grew hazy once more, Thorin focused on one clear idea—he could take his impossible survival as a sign. Despite the challenges that had been thrown into their path, they had overcome the insurmountable.

And whatever was yet to come, they were destined to make it out of the caves. Of that he had become sure.

* * *

When Thorin drifted back into consciousness, he was not sure how many hours had passed. His throat and mouth felt like gravel.

A small noise sounded and he felt the body next to him shift.

"Holly. Are you awake?" His voice came out as barely more than a croak, and he tried in vain to clear his throat.

She gave a small groan and shifted again. "I'm not…" She gave a sharp hiss and when he put one hand on her back he could feel tension riddling her muscles. "I am _nothing_ like you."

Thorin gave her shoulder a light shake. "Holly, wake up."

Holly let out another groan, though it sounded more like a sob, and hunched her shoulders. "Let me be. I _killed_ you."

He shook her again, this time more firmly.

She jolted up with a gasp and clumsily shoved his hand away. Then she became very still. "Thorin?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"You're _alive_." Holly hissed through her teeth and shifted so she could sit up straighter.

"Are you hurt?"

"My head feels like it's been hit with a battering ram. But other than that I'm fine. Are you all right? How's your wound?"

Thorin passed one hand over the area, still unable to believe that it had healed so quickly. "It's gone. But I don't understand how."

Holly let out a small sigh of relief. "I used a spell to heal you. I didn't—I wasn't sure if it would work, but I had no other option."

"You saved my life." The fact that she had done so meant she hadn't truly given up hope yet.

Holly let out a long, slow breath. "Against all odds."

"Why?" He wanted her to admit it out loud.

She didn't respond for a long while, and just when he was beginning to think she wouldn't at all, Holly said, "Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it." Her voice lowered as she said, "Something my sister used to tell me, after our father killed himself. Dying...it doesn't happen to you, really. It happens to everyone around you. You are just the stone, creating ripples in the water." Her voice grew stronger, more sure, as she said, "From now on, we keep each other alive."

* * *

They proceeded cautiously through the tunnels. There was still the looming threat of the goblins, and neither of them were strong enough to defend themselves if they were attacked, but their water had run out completely. At the moment, dying of thirst seemed a far more imminent threat than the goblins.

"Can't you use your light?" Thorin asked as they walked.

"No. I overexerted myself when I healed you. It'll be a while before I'll be able to use magic again." He heard Holly stumble as her foot knocked against an uneven section of the cave floor. "Believe me, I'm having a worse time of it than you are."

Thorin held out his arm and she hesitated as she bumped into it.

"You can hold onto me, if you'd like."

"A-All right." Holly tentatively grasped Thorin's forearm with one hand and let him lead her on through the tunnels.

After a while, Thorin slowed his pace and said, "We've reached a larger cave. There are more tunnels branching out from here."

They made their way inside, slowly. Thorin put one hand out and felt wood. He slid his hand up and realized it was a pole of sorts, used to support a structure.

"The goblins built something here," he said. "Probably another outpost. Though it seems they've abandoned it."

"I hope I scared them off. I doubt they've ever seen magic befo—" Holly grunted as her hip bumped against something heavy. "Oh, thank Eru."

"What is it?"

"A barrel. And it's full of water."

They began to fill their waterskins. "They must have gotten the wood for these structures from the surface," Thorin said.

"We must be close, then."

"Exactly. Which means we'll have to choose our path carefully. I sense three tunnels besides the one we came from."

Holly said, "I'll take a look around. You should rest. You've lost a lot of blood."

"How do you plan to look around when you can't see anything?"

"Just tell me where to walk and I'll try not to trip over anything." As she talked, her voice began to move farther away. "I'm serious about you getting some rest. I'm su—ouch!" There was the sound of wood clattering to the ground. "I'm surprised you're able to walk at all."

"All right." Thorin tried to keep his amusement out of his tone as he took a seat next to the barrel. He wouldn't call Holly's concern for him motherly—far from it. She was much younger than him, and since they had entered the caves she had struggled more than him to hold herself together. Perhaps it was the incongruity of the situation that amused him.

Regardless, she was right. Even the short walk to the cave had exhausted him.

Holly's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I've reached the cave wall. Where do I go now?"

"The first tunnel is a few feet to your left. Just follow the wall."

The investigation of the first two tunnels yielded nothing of interest. The third, however, caused Holly to stray farther into the tunnel.

"I see a light."

"Stay there. I'll come to y—"

But she had already ran after it, her footsteps echoing against the stone.

Thorin swore and pushed himself to his feet. Had it not occurred to her that whatever was casting that light could be dangerous? But as he followed her and ventured closer, he realized it could not be goblins at the end of the tunnel.

The light was a strange bright green that cast a steady glow over the stone. He found Holly standing in a large cavern. The strange light came from luminescent mushrooms sprouting against the walls and from a grass-like moss that carpeted the floor.

"Well, it's not the surface," Holly said. "But still, an interesting find."

In the strange light of the cave, Thorin could see her face for the first time since the goblins had attacked. Her cheeks and mouth had become a grisly painting of dried tear tracks running through grime and blood. He doubted he looked any better—there was still dried slime from the giant eggs stuck to his hair and coat.

"You should clean your face," Thorin said as he surveyed the cavern. There was a passage at the other end, but he doubted the goblins had passed through here; the moss under their feet appeared untouched.

Holly brought one hand to her face and observed the dried flakes of blood that stuck to her fingertips. "Ah. Right." She sat down and retrieved some water and a rag from her pack. "I might as well try and revive my magic while we're here. There's no telling when we'll need it again."

Thorin sat down next to her. "How does that work?"

"It's...well." She tilted her head back, as though she was trying to think of a way to explain it. "Humans have no natural inclination towards magic like elves do, so to be able to use it we have to align certain parts of the body and soul. Does that make sense?"

Thorin nodded.

"To get everything back in order, I basically have to sit still for an hour or so." She wet a cloth and began scrubbing her face clean. "Clear my mind and such. I won't bore you with the details."

"Will you still be aware of your surroundings?"

"For the most part, yes."

That didn't sound entirely convincing, but Thorin's body was aching for respite. "All right. I'm going to get some rest while you...fix your magic." He laid down, facing away from her.

Already his eyes were beginning to drift closed, but something small poked against his side and made him open them again. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the object. It was the acorn Bilbo had given him, right before the riders had chased them down. The sight of it sent a wave of sorrow through him.

 _Even after all this death and suffering, there is a new chance at life._

For the first time since entering the caves, Thorin gave himself a moment to simply grieve. He missed Bilbo so much it felt as though a void had entered his chest, one that would crush him from the inside out. He missed the light of hope in his eyes, the warmth of his hands, the gentleness that never seemed to leave his voice.

Thorin's hope for the future had not just included mere survival. He'd wanted to build a life with Bilbo, in Erebor. The dangers that had been thrust upon them had made him realize that two years had been far too much time to spend in unspoken longing.

Any chance he'd had to remedy that was gone now.

Thorin clasped the acorn in one fist, failing to hold back the tears that had welled up in his eyes. If they managed to survive this, he would plant the acorn as a reminder to himself, to seize the opportunity of hope before it was gone forever.

* * *

"I miss the sun."

Holly was lying on her back, hands resting on her stomach. They had decided to linger for a while in the cavern with the luminescent plants, finding relief in not having complete darkness press in from all sides.

She turned to him and said, "Do you ever get sick of it? Living underground with no natural light?"

"No," Thorin said. "Dwarves don't need light the way other races do."

"Because you can see through the stone?"

"Yes, and because we make our own light within the mountain. The gems and the gold we extract from the earth illuminate our kingdom the same way the sun does for the lands aboveground."

Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin saw her tense up at the mention of gold.

"There is nothing inherently evil about the treasure my people have gathered," he said.

"Of course not. The strange obsession they seem to have with it, however, is another matter," Holly said, staring hard at the ceiling.

"Gold sickness affects only a few among us. I've seen it spread much more rapidly through populations of men," Thorin said, feeling an age-old anger rise within him. "For centuries, men and elves have sought the treasure we dig from the earth with our own hard labor, but when disaster falls, they find it all to easy to turn their backs and place the blame on our own so-called greed."

Holly was silent for a moment, then sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. "I've never heard the story told that way. In all the history books I've read, the blame seems to be on the dwarves. Though I suppose that's not entirely justified. It wasn't as if you went an invited Smaug to come and...sorry. Too soon?"

Thorin shook his head, glad that she understood things from his point of view. "It seems dwarves are fated for bad fortune, but we always weather the storm."

Holly gave a slight smile, though a deep sadness had filled her eyes. "And I'm sure you would know better than most."

"I have the scars to show for it." Thorin frowned, noticing the tension that had filled her whole body. "Something wrong?"

She was nearly trembling as she said, "I almost got you all killed."

"Holly, we've discussed this. You—"

"I'm not talking about this time, though I've still got quite a bit to answer for once this whole mess is over. I mean…I'm talking about what happened during the quest."

Thorin searched his memory for an instance during which she had put them all in danger. It had been a risk bringing her along at first, given her inability to fight, but she'd proven herself to be more useful than a burden. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you don't. But y-you deserve to know." Holly took a deep breath, and it all came spilling out. She told him about the dark mage Damon, the binding of her soul and Smaug's, and how she had chosen to let the Morgul venom nearly kill her instead of risking the dragon's return.

Once she was done, she rubbed her face with both hands and said, "I should just made a damn pamphlet and hand it out to people. I'm tired of explaining this." She looked up with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I kept this from your for so long. I-I understand that it's a lot. If you—"

She stopped as Thorin held up one hand. "Give me a moment."

Holly was right. It was a lot of information that he had to process. The fact that the dragon had been spying on them throughout the entire quest shocked him, and would have terrified him had he known two years ago.

Thorin wondered if some part of him had known that the dragon had been influencing her after its death, and that had fueled his distrust toward her in the days before the battle.

It disturbed him that an unknown force right within their group had been so close to destroying everything he had worked so hard for. But she had done all she could to prevent the dragon from causing too much damage. In the end, it had still been Smaug, as well as the dark mage, that had been the real threats to their cause.

"Sometimes I wish the Morgul venom had just finished me off," Holly said, then bit her lip as though she hadn't meant to speak it aloud. "I-I think then it would have been better for everyone. Dying would be the last problem I ever caused."

Thorin looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. So this was the source of her destructive tendencies. Bilbo had never gone into detail about why she had left, saying only that she had been traumatized by the injuries she received in the battle. But the guilt and self-loathing she displayed had a different depth to it now that he knew what had caused it.

"I know you still blame yourself for most of the things that have happened on this journey. But you have to understand—"

"And I killed Alistair."

"What?"

"It was dark and I thought he was an orc and I killed him." Holly wiped her eyes. "Smaug told me once, that we were both built to destroy. Nothing more. I tried to deny him, but…" She let out a humorless laugh. "Who would know me better than the other half of my own mind?"

"Smaug is not a part of you," Thorin said. "You may have been...intertwined in a way I don't quite understand, but you are not him. The things you did and the struggles you overcame—that is who you are."

"Fire and ruin and death. We have that in common." Holly sat up on her heels and looked him hard in the eye. "You can't deny that. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong."

Thorin stared back. "Did Smaug love?"

"What?"

"You would know, wouldn't you? Did the dragon love?"

"He loved his treasure horde. But I don't think that's what you're getting at."

"And who did he strive to protect?"

"No one but himself."

"And you?"

"I…" Holly sighed as her shoulders slumped. "I love you all. The Company. Everyone that's still alive...and those that are gone. I-I tried to protect everyone—"

"And you proved that you are still trying to heal. There is no evil in caring. It is a guide by which you correct your mistakes."

Holly opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. "I...I'll think about that, then." She lowered her gaze to her hands. "You're not too bad at this. Comforting people."

"Years of practice." Thorin stood up and offered her his hand. "Come on. We should get moving."

Holly did not smile, but she let him help her up.

 **It's getting a little easier to write Leonere's parts, which is good because I'm far from done with him. I hope his bits aren't boring for you guys; I need a lot of time to set up the changes that take place for his character.**

 **And I kind of depressed myself writing that part about Thorin grieving over Bilbo. He deserves to just be happy (I say as I continue to write angsty shit for him)**

 **Fortunately there's going to be just one more cave-chapter and then hopefully a nice little surprise to counter all the sad stuff.**

 **Thanks so much for reading and for your patience through the technical shit I had to deal with. If you spot any more problems, please tell me ASAP. And feel free to leave a comment about this chapter. I really appreciate it!**


	17. Sunlight

**Chapter 17: Sunlight**

It was with great relief that they heard the rushing of water. They had already encountered a few underground pools and been able to catch strange eyeless fish to bolster their food supply, but the sound of moving water brought them both a strange sense of hope.

It was a bit like escaping from Mirkwood again, Holly thought as they drew closer to what must have been an underground river. The memory brought a pang to her heart, as did most things that reminded her of Bilbo.

The stone beneath their feet grew slippery with spray, and when they rounded a corner the river came into sight. The water rippled and refracted her magical light into wide beams that bounced off the cave walls.

There was a narrow ledge of rock wide enough for them to walk in single file, leading in either direction.

"Which way?" Holly asked, stepping closer to the river. It was flowing to their right, which meant the likely aboveground source was to their left, but if they needed to swim, it would be harder to make progress against the current.

Thorin moved beside her. "The water's moving fast, and it's louder coming from down there." He gestured to their left. "We'll probably find a waterfall not too far from here."

"Then hopefully we'll finally be able to get out of this damned cave." Holly followed him as he began traversing the ledge to their left.

The stone was uneven and slippery, but they were able to keep their bearings as they followed the sound of rushing water.

After a while, Thorin gestured for her to put out her light. Holly complied, worried they had run into more enemies, but what she saw evaporated her fear.

" _Sunlight_."

* * *

The surface was so tantalizingly close to them. As Thorin turned his gaze upwards, he could see a patch of blue sky, turning dark with the setting of the sun. But they had no way of getting up—the rock walls were too smooth to climb.

Holly paced back and forth on the rock ledge, deep in thought. She was trying to think of a way up, but so far she hadn't come up with anything. Neither of them were keen to enter the caves again, not when they were so close to escape.

"How stable is the stone here?" she asked. "I could try and blast a path for us."

"It's too steep. You'd have to carve a long path for us to be able to get out." Thorin scanned the rock walls once more. The rock was less even near the waterfall. "If I boost you up there," he gestured to a ledge that was half-hidden behind the water, "you might be able to climb up."

"I'd slip and fall," Holly said.

"Not if you're careful." He walked closer to the waterfall and studied the ledges the best he could in the fading light. They were large enough that she should be able to have steady footing.

"And what about you?" she asked, coming to stand next to him.

"See if you can find something to help me up. The most important thing is getting at least one of us out of here."

Holly sighed and shook her head, but did not voice her disapproval. "All right."

Thorin knelt down near the wall and let her climb on his shoulders. Once he was sure she was steady, he stood up. She was surprisingly light, even for her size.

She pushed off his shoulders, nearly kicking him in the head as she climbed up onto the ledge. "Not as slippery as I thought. I'm soaked now, though."

"Be careful," Thorin said, stepping back so he could better watch her progress as she climbed.

"Yes, _mother_." Holly made her ascent cautiously anyway. It wasn't long before she had reached the top.

"What do you see?"

"We're in a forest," she called down. "It's clear, except…"

"Holly?"

"I-It's fine. I'm going to see what I can find to help you up, before it gets too dark." She set off, and was soon out of his sight.

After a few minutes, she returned.

"Anything?"

"No. It's not as if there's rope lying around in the middle of a damn forest. And I'm not going to leave you behind, obviously." Holly sighed, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. She looked around, then spotted something he couldn't see and said, "I have an idea." She turned back to him. "Move back."

Thorin took a few steps back.

"More. I don't want to hit you."

"What are you going to do?" he asked, moving back farther.

"I'm getting creative." Holly walked out of sight, and a moment later he felt the familiar tingle in the air of a spell being cast. A small boulder skidded into sight, stopping just at the edge of the cliff. Holly planted her feet and pushed against it until it fell into the cavern, right below the ledge.

Thorin used it to climb up, and a few minutes later he had reached the top of the waterfall.

"Nice work," he said as he accepted Holly's outstretched hand and climbed out of the cavern.

"Thank you." She stepped back as he stood up. "You have any idea what that's doing there?"

Thorin looked over to where she was pointing to a dark shape perched on a nearby rock. He stepped closer and realized it was a large raven.

"It's been staring at me since I climbed up," Holly said, rubbing one arm uneasily. "Are they supposed to get that big?"

He felt a smile begin to form on his lips as he stepped closer to the raven. It watched him with beady eyes, tilting his head slightly. "They found us."

"Who?" Holly asked.

Thorin knelt down and addressed the raven. "What news from Erebor?"

"You're...talking to it. Are you sure I didn't hit your head when I dropped that rock?" Holly frowned, then her mouth fell open as the raven began to speak in a high, reedy voice.

"All is well. Dain has been searching for you for weeks."

"Tell him I'm all right," Thorin said. "We...We lost a few people on the way, but we will return to Erebor as soon as possible."

The raven clicked its beak, then flew away without another word. Thorin watched it as it disappeared over the trees. Hopefully his message would reach Erebor soon. The thought of reassuring his kin would help him sleep a bit easier.

Holly slowly shook her head. " _I_ didn't hit my head, did I?"

"Some dwarves can speak with ravens," Thorin said. "I've used them before to communicate over long distances."

"Right." She nodded, her brow furrowed. "Well, that's fairly useful."

Thorin took a moment to survey their surroundings. The undergrowth in the forest was thick, and the shadows had grown long with the waning daylight. But they still had no way of knowing exactly _where_ they were in Middle Earth.

That was a task for the next day. After the weeks they had spent underground, they could afford a few hours to rest and enjoy the fresh air.

"I'm going to take a look around, make sure this area is safe."

"All right. I'll see if I can get a fire going."

They parted ways, and Thorin was certain she was just as glad as he was to get some space after spending nearly every waking moment together in the cramped tunnels.

He followed the river upstream for a bit, scanning the trees for any signs of movement. Against his will, his thoughts strayed once more to the acorn in his pocket. Now that they had survived the tunnels, he considered planting it here. It would grow in relative obscurity among the other trees, but for him it would be a permanent reminder...and a memorial.

The grief in his heart was no longer fresh, but it still ached like nothing else he had ever experienced. In time, he would be able to move on, but a piece of his heart would always remain with the tiny seed—something so full of beautiful potential that was never given the chance to truly grow.

Thorin stood by the riverbank and held the acorn in his palm, staring at it as his vision grew blurry. He would give anything to see Bilbo one last time.

The clash of steel startled him from his thoughts. Thorin cursed. He never should have left Holly alone.

He slipped the acorn back into his pocket and ran towards the sound.

* * *

Holly froze in the middle of bending down to gather a piece of firewood. Someone was making their way through the undergrowth. It was possible it was just Thorin, but something in her gut kept her from calling out.

Slowly, Holly lowered her bundle of firewood in her arms to the ground and drew her sword. The sound was drawing closer, and from the amount of noise the person was making, she guessed they were not aware of her presence.

She glanced down at the blade and felt her stomach drop as she remembered the last time she had been in this situation. Alistair's blank eyes and pained expression were still seared into her memory.

She would attack to intimidate, not to kill. Then she could assess her opponent without hurting them. Even if it was Thorin, she was sure he would understand.

Holly waited until the noise drew close, then leapt out from behind the tree, sword pointed forwards. Almost instantly, a knife clashed against her blade, sending it spiraling into the underbrush.

She cursed and stepped back, readying a spell, then stopped as she realized who it was.

" _Víriel?_ "

The ranger smirked. "We really have to stop meeting like this. I almost punched you in the throat again."

Holly's shoulders sagged in relief at the sight of a familiar face. "Well, I...I almost incinerated you. Again."

"I'm glad to see you still have my sword. Despite your tendency to let it fly out of your hands, apparently."

She rolled her eyes and went to retrieve it from the brush. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"Pure luck, it seems. We weren't heading south to look for you."

"We?"

Before Víriel could answer, Holly turned at the sound of a new voice behind her.

"Holly? Are you all right?"

She turned to face Thorin, ready to reassure him, but her voice caught in her throat at the sight of his pale, stricken face. His gaze was riveted on something behind her. And before she could ask what was wrong, he had rushed past her with incredible speed.

As though she was in a dream, Holly turned slowly to see Thorin standing with his back to her, his arms wrapped around someone whose face she could not see, but his curly brown hair was unmistakable—

Holly felt the world twist and warp and fall away from beneath her feet. It couldn't be. She had seen him die. There was no magic in the world that could bring back the dead.

Each step seemed to take a full minute as she made her way over to the pair. Thorin had one hand on the back of Bilbo's head and the other clasped against his back, and was holding him so tightly she thought he might never let go.

Eventually, though, they broke apart and Bilbo turned to Holly.

She managed to find her voice. "I-Is it really you?" She did have a habit of hallucinating dead people, after all. But if Thorin could see him as well…

"Yes, of course it's me," Bilbo said, tears shining in his eyes.

Holly looked him over. His clothes were torn and dirty and he had a bandage wrapped around one arm, but he was _alive_. "H-How did you survive? I saw one of the riders kill you." Her voice began to waver.

"Remember this?" Bilbo pulled aside the collar of his shirt, revealing the mithril vest he wore underneath. "I had a nasty bruise afterward, but this protected me from the worst of it."

Holly closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or scream. "Of course. I should have known that. I-I should have—" Her voice broke and she began to cry in earnest. The next thing she knew, both Bilbo and Thorin had their arms wrapped around her and she was getting both of their shirts wet with her tears.

The three of them clung to each other, and if they were all shaking a little as they held on, no one mentioned it.

Holly realized she hadn't breathed this easily in a long while. It was as though the final pieces of herself, that she had been missing her whole life, had finally settled into place and completed her.

For the first time in months, she had found peace.

 **First chapter** **in a while with a happy ending :) Next chapter will kick off part three, in which we enter the final leg of this journey. We have a little angst in the beginning, but after that there will be a ton of fluff because I figured everyone needs a break at this point. (Except Leonere. No breaks for him.)**

 **Thanks so much for reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review letting me know what you think. I'd really appreciate it.**


	18. Together

**PART III: PERSIST**

" _We live together, we act on, and react to one another; but always...we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone."_

— _Aldous Huxley;_ _The Doors of Perception_

* * *

 **Chapter 18: Together**

Holly tilted her head back and allowed herself to enjoy the sunlight for a moment. The rushing of the river was calming, and the late summer heat felt especially pleasant after the cold damp of the caves.

"You're up early," Víriel said, walking up from behind to join her at the riverbank.

"I suppose I'll need to adjust what time I sleep and wake," Holly said. "I spent so long in the dark that I lost track of day and night."

"You were underground this whole time?" she asked, taking a seat beside her.

"Yes. We'd been at the surface for only a little while before we found you and Bilbo."

"Damn. It's been...over a month, I think."

Holly cursed under her breath. They'd spent over a month wasting time underground.

"Must have gotten boring after a while," Víriel said.

"Well, we didn't really have time to get bored before we were attacked by giant insects."

"That sounds unpleasant."

"It was. And so were the goblins we fought."

"I'm sure they were easier to kill than those riders. I'm beginning to think those bastards aren't even human."

Holly turned to face her. "So you killed them all?"

"No. I could barely land a blow, and even when I did, it just glanced off like they were wearing armor under their cloaks. I barely managed to get them away from Bilbo, and they spent the better part of the next few weeks chasing us."

Holly scanned the trees. If the riders were still at large, then they weren't safe just yet. She reached up and put one hand on Víriel's shoulder. "Thank you for protecting him. Really, I-I owe you, more than you will ever know."

She smiled. "No need to thank me. I'm just doing my duty as a ranger."

Holly sat up on her heels, debating whether or not to hug her as a thank you, when a rustling noise made her turn. Thorin walked towards them, looking more well-rested, cleaner, and happier than he had in months.

"Where's Bilbo?" he asked.

"He must be still sleeping," Holly said. "If you want to go wake him up, then be my guest."

"All right," Thorin turned and headed back to their campsite.

She sat back down and rested her weight on her palms. "Where are you headed next?" she asked Víriel. "Back to Ithilien?"

"Well, we still have the ring to destroy, right? I said I would help you all get into Mordor."

"Right." That was still a pressing task, but she knew Thorin probably wanted to return to Erebor as soon as possible. They were split between two pressing matters on opposite sides of the world, but she would be damned before she let any of them split up again. "How would we get to Mordor from here?"

"Well, we're near the southern borders of Mirkwood right now. If we keep heading south, we'll hit the main road. That will take us right to the Black Gate, where we should be able to enter Mordor."

"Sounds fairly simple." Holly drew her knees against her chest. "And what of the riders?"

"They stopped following us a while back," Víriel said. "Eru knows where they are right now." She turned as the foliage behind them rustled again.

Thorin stopped a few feet away from them, his eyes wide and panicked.

Holly was on her feet in an instant. "What is it?"

"I can't wake him up."

They ran as a group back to their campsite. Víriel reached Bilbo first and knelt down next to him. She placed one hand on his forehead. "Ah, damn it. He's burning up."

Holly knelt down across from her. Bilbo was still asleep, but his brow was slightly furrowed as though he was in pain, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. She shook his arm. "Bilbo."

No response.

Víriel began unwrapping the bandages on his arm. "He told me he was _fine_ , but…" She took one look at the wound and grimaced. "Shit. It's infected."

"You can heal him, can't you?" Thorin asked Holly, kneeling down next to her.

"No, I…" She swallowed hard, fighting back panic. "The spell I know would only make it worse."

"He needs medicine," Víriel said, wrapping the bandages back around his arm.

Bilbo groaned. His eyes fluttered open, but his eyes were glassy.

Thorin placed one hand on his forehead and brushed his bangs back. "Bilbo. You're going to be all right, you hear me?"

"We need to go." Víriel picked Bilbo up, careful of his arm, and stood. "There's a town south of here. If we hurry, we can…" She trailed off and pressed her lips together.

Holly was afraid to ask. "H-How far away is it?"

"Six days away on foot. But we might be able to make it in five," she replied, eyes focused on the trees.

He didn't have that long, clearly. Holly bit her lip, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Then we have no time to waste," Thorin said, and started off through the trees. "Come on!"

They ran as fast as they could through the trees. Holly was already beginning to tire after a few minutes, and she could tell Víriel was too, though she kept her grip on Bilbo steady.

When they finally broke through the trees and out into the plains, a mixture of exhaustion and despair nearly brought Holly to her knees. They would never reach the town in time. She had finally found Bilbo again, had begun to truly heal, only to have it all ripped away from her again.

Thorin turned and noticed her hesitation. "We cannot stop," he said, eyes blazing. "Do you understand?"

Holly swallowed hard and nodded, and they began to run again.

They had not gone far before she noticed a figure in the distance to their right. It was moving east, and would soon cross paths with them. When she recognized the gait of a horse, she tensed up, but as the rider drew closer she realized it was not one of the black-cloaked men that had pursued them earlier.

She broke from their group to run at the rider. "Stop!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. "Please, stop!"

The rider showed no signs of slowing, but when she stepped in his path, he had no choice but to jerk back the reins and force his mount to a halt to avoid trampling her.

His expression changed from irritation to confusion as he took in the rest of her strange group. "C-Can I help you?"

"Please, my friend is sick," Holly said, walking closer to him and staring up with wide eyes. "We need to get him to the nearest town, so he can get medicine. Can you help us?"

The man frowned. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any medicine with me."

She took in his fine clothes and soft-skinned hands and tried not to scowl. _Stupid wealthy bastard._

"We need your horse." Thorin stepped forward, his voice tight with impatience.

The man looked back and forth between the two of them and tightened his grip on the reins. "I'm sorry, but I cannot delay. I've already been driven off the road by bandits, and I have important business in Minas Tirith. I cannot spare even a day."

Holly shot a glance back at Thorin and Víriel. _Let me handle this._ She turned back to the man, tears filling her eyes. "Please, could you at least give us some water? W-We've been traveling in the wild for days, and we're out of supplies."

The man hesitated, then some form of pity seemed to win him over. "All right." He slid down from his saddle and reached into his saddlebag.

As soon as his back was turned, Holly kicked him hard in the back of the knee, causing him to grunt and fall to the ground. She tried to keep her hands from shaking as she withdrew her sword and rammed the pommel into the side of his head. He grunted and fell to the ground.

"All right." Holly wiped a couple tears from her face. Once she was sure the man was unconscious, then grabbed the reins of the horse and turned to the others. When Thorin looked at the unconscious man and opened his mouth to speak, she said, "I don't care. We have to hurry."

Víriel stepped forward. "I'll take him. I know where it is."

They helped her mount the horse with Bilbo. For one burning moment, Holly looked Víriel in the eye and she nodded back in understanding. When she turned and galloped away, she felt an inch of the fear and worry in her heart fade.

Thorin stepped beside her. "I was going to say you did well."

She turned to him. "You're not bothered that I just robbed an innocent man?"

"I think it was justified in this case." He looked down at the unconscious man. "I've had to do things, too, that I'm not proud of."

Holly nodded and went to check if the man was still breathing. "Well, he'll probably live." She took a waterskin from her pack and tossed it down next to him.

"Let's go," Thorin said. "I want to reach the town as soon as possible."

And they began to run again.

* * *

 _Léonere winced at the burning sensation in his hand. He looked down and saw a circle of gold in the center of his palm. The orange light around him began to swell, and he was engulfed in flame—_

 _A large hound stood over him, heavy paws digging into his shoulders. The beast snapped, hot breath washing over his face. Its teeth glinted a wicked sharp in the dusty moonlight, and came rushing down—_

 _A large, magnificent shadow towered before him, more beautiful and terrible than anything he had witnessed before. The image in his mind began to sharpen and slow. The shadow took the form of a man, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, but it was also a tower with many spires, and a mountain with treasure untold hidden within._

 _The shadow crouched to meet him, or perhaps Léonere had risen up, and as its eyes open he found himself gazing into the void._

 _Or rather, sinking into it, inevitably, irrevocably._

 _Léonere screamed—_

—and woke with fevered skin and a heaving chest. The dark shape leaning over him was the first thing he noticed, and he reached out to it. "Alistair?"

"No." The figure shifted and Annatar's pale features came into the light. Léonere withdrew his hand, and Annatar gave the tiniest of frowns before his expression shifted to one of concern. "You look ill."

Léonere wiped some sweat from his forehead. "I-I feel it, too." His innards felt as though they were being boiled. "These nightmares have left me feeling quite unwell."

"And what do you see in these nightmares?"

He shook his head, slowly. "I don't...I've had strange ones, that seem almost like memories, but this time it was just flashes. I don't remember much."

"Hm." Annatar sat back on his heels. "Overwhelming, is it?"

Léonere swallowed hard and nodded. "There was a wolf, I think. And then a shadow. A-And before that, there was fire…" He trailed off and turned his hand over, absently tracing a circle in the center of it. "I've also had dreams of being on an island." He didn't miss the flash of recognition in Annatar's eyes. "Do you know what it means?"

"I've been to the sea many years ago," Annatar said, his gaze focusing on some point in the distance.

Léonere thought back to the dream he'd had, where the island had been drowned. "You've mentioned the destruction of Númenor in the past."

"What of it?"

"Could that have been what I dreamed?"

"How should I know?" Annatar stood up, fixing him with a haughty stare. "Perhaps you simply have a vivid imagination, Léonere."

* * *

Holly was tired of running. She was grateful for the lack of pursuit, but each pounding step reminded her of her uncertainty of Bilbo's fate. It had been five days, and each one was torturously spent not knowing if he had died from the infection, or if he had managed to survive.

The dry grass snagged one foot and she stumbled and fell to her knees. Thorin stopped running and walked over to her. "Are you all right?" He sounded a bit winded as well, and said, "We can afford a short rest."

"No," Holly said, grimacing as she tried to push herself up. "I can keep going. We're almost there."

Thorin hadn't pushed her hard during their journey across the plains, but their mutual concern for Bilbo had been enough of an incentive to move as fast as possible.

She looked up to see Thorin offering her his hand, and gratefully took it. She stood up and took a few deep breaths, forcing herself to stay upright. "After this, I think I may just cut my legs off."

Thorin offered a brief smile at that, then turned to face south. Their shadows had grown long in the light of the setting sun. "I see smoke on the horizon. We must be close."

That was all she needed to hear to coax herself back into running.

The pair of them must have been a sight, bursting into the village and panting heavily. Since night had not yet fallen, the gates of the rickety wooden fence were open wide. It was a small settlement, with an inn, a smithy, stables, and a few houses. Holly wondered with a frown if there was a healer here at all.

They found Víriel sitting in front of the inn, long legs stretched out in front of her.

"Where is he? Is he all right?" Thorin asked, since Holly was too out of breath to speak.

"Just resting," Víriel said, not moving from her relaxed position. "The healer said we almost didn't make it in time, but she managed to clean the wound. He'll live."

Holly sat down on the bench next to Víriel, her whole body sagging in relief. She put her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. That was the second time in a row she'd almost lost him.

Thorin stayed standing, and said, "Where is he now?"

Víriel jerked her head behind her. "He's in one of the rooms upstairs. Second door on the left."

Thorin nodded and hurried into the inn without another word. Holly made to follow him, but Víriel put a hand on her shoulder. "Take a minute. You look like you're about to keel over." She glanced at the door to the inn. "Besides, I think those two need a minute alone."

Holly sat back against the bench and took a few more gasps of air in lieu of a verbal response.

"You two ran all the way here?" Víriel asked.

Holly nodded, then reached up and wrapped her arms around the other woman's shoulders. "This is the second time you've saved his life. Thank you."

"It's nothing." Víriel shrugged, but Holly could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. Almost tentatively, she placed one hand on Holly's back.

"Hardly." Holly pulled back so she could look her in the eye. "It...It means the world to me, that he is alive and well. When I said I owed you, I meant it."

An eyelash had fallen onto the other woman's cheek, she noticed, then moved back so they weren't sitting so close.

"Well, if you really mean that…" A slow smile slid onto her face. "Then I hope you won't mind buying me a drink."

"With what money?"

Víriel gave her a mock-scolding frown. "Don't tell me you spent it all in the caves."

Holly scowled back. "I didn't have any to begin with."

"Oh." She seemed to draw back a little, as if remembering something, then pulled a pouch from her coat pocket. "I suppose I'm buying, then."

Holly followed her into the tavern, feeling slightly embarrassed. Myra must have told her that they had struggled with money after their father's death.

She sat at a table near the corner as Víriel walked up to the bartender. The tavern was quiet, with only a few patrons scattered throughout the room. A couple of merchants laughed together near the window, while a thin man with his cloak still on scarfed down a slice of bread at a nearby table.

Holly looked up as Víriel set down two pints on the table and sat down across from her.

"Cheers." She picked one up, took a swig, and frowned. "Ugh. Guess they don't have much to work with here, out in the middle of nowhere. Still, it's not terrible." Her gaze flickered from the second pint to Holly. "I promise, it's not bad."

She eyed the tankard of brownish liquid. "I don't drink."

Víriel raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think to tell me that two minutes ago?"

"Right. Sorry. You paid for it." Holly reached for the tankard, but Víriel's hand stopped her.

"It's fine. You don't have to drink if you don't want to, all right?"

Holly looked at their joined hands. "Why would I want to?"

Víriel gave a light scoff and drew her hand back. "You look like you need one. It helps you relax," she added when Holly narrowed her eyes.

She peered into the tankard again. The liquid gave off a strange, slightly sharp smell. "But at what cost?"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic about it. Worst case scenario, you'll get a little tipsy and start singing raunchy tavern songs." She grinned. "That's not a horrible price to pay for a little relaxation."

"I once tried singing, and was nearly arrested for causing a public disturbance," Holly said, causing the other woman to laugh. She smiled, and after a moment's hesitation, raised the tankard to her lips.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

Bilbo was nearly asleep when the door banged open, making him jump. He sighed and sat up, ready to tell Víriel off again, then stopped when he saw Thorin standing in the doorway.

He seemed a bit out of breath, and his eyes widened a little when he caught sight of Bilbo. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Well…" He shifted, leaning his weight on his good arm. "Yes. A little."

"I can come back later, if you—"

"No, please." Bilbo beckoned him over. "I've been resting a lot these past few days. I think I can spare a few minutes."

Thorin closed the door and crossed the room to the bed. He seemed...well, Bilbo would _never_ used the word timid to describe the dwarf, but some of his old pride and impenetrability seemed to have left him. Thorin's hands fidgeted at his sides, as though he didn't know what to do with them.

"You can sit down." Bilbo moved over to make room on the bed. "There aren't any chairs."

Thorin sat down at the edge of the bed. He had fixed Bilbo with an intense gaze, and before he could ask why, Thorin clasped one of his hands in both of his own and said, "I almost lost you."

"I…" The words were stuck in his throat. Bilbo could feel the heat radiating from Thorin's hands and into his palm. "I know. I almost lost you too." He squeezed his hand.

Seeing the two of them trapped under the falling rocks had been one of the most terrifying experiences of his life. He hadn't had the time to see if they had even survived the cave-in, because he and Víriel had been forced to run from the riders.

He had spent the weeks afterward worrying, catching little sleep in the few hours they could afford to rest before the riders caught up to them again. And now that he knew Thorin and Holly had survived, it felt as if a part of him had become whole again. Even in a strange place half a world away from the Shire, it felt a bit like coming home.

They both reached out for each other at the same time, and Bilbo closed his eyes as Thorin enveloped him in a tight yet gentle embrace. He let his head rest against Thorin's shoulder and began to relax for the first time in what must have been months.

After a minute, they pulled away. Bilbo thought back to the first time Thorin had held him like that, back on Carrock when they had barely known each other. So much had changed since then, but the warmth and reassurance he felt had not lessened in its intensity.

"How's your arm?" Thorin asked, his gaze falling to the clean bandage wrapped around his left forearm.

"It's still healing, but the infection is gone. I should be ready to travel tomorrow."

"That's good." Thorin brushed his fingertips over the bandage, then dropped his hand to rest on the bed.

"You didn't have any trouble getting here, did you? Víriel told me it was a few days' travel."

"We spent most of it running." Thorin smiled slightly. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Good. That's good." He lowered his gaze, fingers rubbing against the blanket on his lap. The rest of their conversation, the unspoken words that they had both been holding onto long before their journey had even started, seemed to press in close.

"I still have this." Thorin held out one hand, and Bilbo recognized the acorn he had given him. "I was going to plant it, but I didn't get the chance before I found you again." He made to hand it back to him, but Bilbo pushed his fingers closed around the seed.

"Keep it. It's yours. Perhaps you can plant it when you get back home." Bilbo smiled. "I think the Lonely Mountain could use a bit more greenery."

Thorin smiled for real this time, and slipped the acorn back into his pocket. He placed one hand on the back of Bilbo's head and pulled him closer, so their foreheads were pressed together. Bilbo had seen him do this with some of his friends and kin, and distantly wondered what the gesture meant.

But his attention was mainly focused on Thorin's calm blue eyes, which were inches from his own, and filled with affection and love. He could count each of his lashes if he'd wanted to, and could see every detail of the scar that ran across his forehead to the bridge of his nose.

"We will plant it together, _amrâlimê_."

Bilbo didn't know what that last word meant, but he could hazard a guess. "Thorin…"

Apparently mistaking his tone for refusal, Thorin pulled back. "I'm sorry, I—" He was cut off as Bilbo gently pressed his lips against his.

Thorin went completely still, then kissed him back, carefully, as if he were afraid to touch him.

Bilbo brought both of his hands to Thorin's jaw and deepened the kiss for a moment before pulling back. "I've, ah, been meaning to do that for a while."

Thorin made a low strangled noise in the back of his throat, then coughed slightly.

"Sorry," Bilbo said, suddenly worried that he'd somehow misread Thorin's actions. Perhaps this was just how he showed affection to close friends, and anything more had merely been in his head. "I mean, it was just—it was—"

"Good," Thorin finished for him. "I thought it was good."

Bilbo gaped at him.

"I mean, I wouldn't call myself experienced in such matters," Thorin said, apparently trying to fill the silence in the room. "But speaking objectively…"

"Are you saying you've never been kissed before?" he asked, then silently scolded himself for asking such a silly question.

Thorin's hand went up to tug at his beard, then fell back to his lap. "I've always been focused on leading my people. I never made time for...more intimate matters."

Bilbo grinned, a strange giddiness rising within his chest. "Well, you have quite a bit of catching up to do."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin of his own. "And are you prepared to facilitate that, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo laughed. "You're ridiculous."

As their laughter filled the room, and Bilbo leaned in for another kiss, he felt a familiar hope rise in his chest. For a moment, it felt as if he was back on Carrock, watching the pink and gold sunset with a solitary peak on the horizon and the warmth of companionship in his heart.

 _I do believe the worst is behind us._

Whatever was to come next, Bilbo knew he would be able to face it—now and forever, because he was no longer alone.

 **That last scene? Honestly the best thing I've ever written. I used to be so intimidated by this ship, but I think I did a pretty good job. And there's plenty more fluff to come ;)**

 **And here we have our first Bilbo POV in a long time! I feel bad because he's been absent from a huge chunk of this story already, and there's another period of that coming up, but he's still a very important character. *throws the ProtectBilbo hashtag in the garbage***

 **Thanks so much to my new followers and the people who favorited! I really appreciate it. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this chapter, and where you think things are heading next...**


	19. Small Steps

**Chapter 19: Small Steps**

Holly woke to the sensation of a knife digging into her temple, and immediately pushed herself into a sitting position. She hissed through her teeth, feeling as though the knife had pushed all the way through her head and out the other side.

"What…" Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. The light coming from the window was unbearably bright, and after a quick, pained glance around the room to ensure she was alone, Holly fell back onto the bed and threw a pillow over her face to try and block out the sunlight.

 _How did I get here?_ She remembered arriving at the town with Thorin, and then going to have a drink with Víriel and...nothing.

A sharp _crack_ and the creak of door hinges made her wince. She wanted to lift her head to see who it was, but the pain in her head took precedence over defending herself from a possible attacker, so she lay still.

The voice that sounded somewhere above her head was also unbearably loud, but she felt immensely glad when she recognized its owner. "Holly, are you awake?"

"Bilbo," she said, then grimaced as her voice came out as a raspy groan from beneath the pillow. "I think someone poisoned me."

"What?" He sat down on the bed next to her and tried to lift the pillow from her eyes, but she groaned and tightened her grip on it. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I have a terrible headache, and my mouth feels strange. And I feel a bit nauseous."

Bilbo was silent for a moment. Then he started to laugh quietly. "You're not poisoned. You just have a hangover."

" _This_ is a hangover?"

He began to laugh harder as he said, "Víriel told me she only let you have a pint. I believe they call that a lightweight."

She would have glared at him if her head wasn't completely covered. "How dare you mock a dying woman."

"My apologies." The mattress shifted as he stood up. "I'll get you some tea. That'll help with your headache."

"Bilbo." She reached one hand out, and was glad when he took it. "I'm glad you're all right."

He squeezed her fingers. "I'm glad you are, too." He left the room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible.

Holly relaxed against the bed. Despite her massive headache, all the pain in her body and mind seemed to have disappeared. She was immeasurably glad that all of her friends—or nearly all of them, she remembered with a pang—were safe and together again. Their companionship seemed far more effective at relaxing her than a tankard of alcohol.

Bilbo came back with tea, humming softly to himself. "Here you are. Hope it's not too hot." She heard him set a mug onto the bedside table.

"You're awfully cheerful today," Holly said, making no effort to lift her head. "Are you always going to be this positive after near-death experiences?"

"I won't make any promises." He sat back down on the bed. "But the reason I'm in such a good mood...I wanted to talk to you about it, actually."

"Well, make it quick. I'm considering decapitating myself if it makes this headache go away."

"All right." Bilbo sighed and fell silent for a moment. "I know our relationship hasn't always been straightforward, but—see, I'm not sure if this would even—but I thought I would tell you just in case, you know...I'm not taking any sense, am I?"

"It helps if you speak in complete sentences."

Bilbo let out a small laugh. "All right." He took a deep breath. "I have feelings for Thorin."

"Yes, you do."

"Y-You knew?"

"I do have eyes, Bilbo. I'm fairly sure I knew before you did."

"I wanted to make sure you were all right with it."

Holly lifted her head so she could look at him, then decided that was a _very_ bad idea. "Why does it matter if I'm all right with it?"

"Because you're a dear friend to me. And given our history, I didn't want to do anything that would upset you."

"I appreciate that. And it doesn't bother me. I want you to be happy."

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "He does make me happy."

"Did you tell him yet?"

"Yes, we actually, um, sorted that out yesterday."

"Spare me the details." Holly reached one hand out and felt around for her tea. "How long is this hangover supposed to last, anyway?"

Bilbo finally took pity on her and pushed the mug into her hand. "Drink your tea. It'll help."

"Right. Just give me a minute to figure out how to do that without moving my head."

Bilbo laughed. "Holly the Great and Powerful Mage, defeated by a hangover."

"I am going to defeat you with this pillow if you don't stop talking so loudly."

"I fear for my life." He patted her leg and stood up. "I'll give you some peace and quiet, then. We'll all be downstairs, when you're ready."

Holly let the mug in her hand warm her skin for a moment, then decided it was best to get it over with and sit up to drink it.

 _I've survived stab wounds, bruised ribs, and concussions. I think I can handle a bloody headache._

As she pushed herself up, she thought she felt the stinging cold of a snowdrift pass under her fingertips. Her eyes fluttered open, and she furrowed her brow against the pain in her head, frightened that someone had been watching her.

There was no one else in the room, of course. But her sudden, irrational fear was a painful reminder that things weren't over. Her friends couldn't protect her from the sense of danger that continued to hound her.

That sense of danger would only intensify as they delved deeper into the problems that lay ahead. Thorin's sickness and Bilbo's ring—neither were resolved yet, and she knew there would be more bloodshed yet before they came to the end of this journey.

* * *

Bilbo found Thorin sitting across from Víriel at a table near the window. He sat in the chair next to Thorin, giving him a tentative smile. The memory of the previous evening made something in his chest lift and expand, and he almost believed that he'd dreamed the whole thing.

"How is she?" Víriel asked, resting her chin on her palm.

"Very hungover," Bilbo said, giving her a stern look. "Though I don't know what you expected, giving her that much to drink."

"It was one pint!" She held up her hands defensively. She gestured to the both of them. "I mean, you two are roughly the same size as her. I thought dwarves could hold their liquor. Don't know about hobbits," she added with a shrug in Bilbo's direction.

"Men can't drink as much as dwarves, even if they are taller," Thorin said. "It's a racial difference."

"It's the same with hobbits," Bilbo said. "Besides, Holly is half the size she's supposed to be. It's like giving a pint to a child."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Víriel said. She smiled, a hint of red staining her cheeks. "You should have seen her. She was _completely_ out of it."

Thorin turned in his chair. "I'd better go pay the innkeeper for our rooms. I'll be back in a minute."

Bilbo sighed and turned back to Víriel as Thorin stood up and left the table. "I suppose I should thank you."

"For getting your friend blackout drunk?"

He rolled his eyes. "For saving my life. Again."

Víriel smiled. "We look out for each other. I know you'd do the same for me."

"Well, if you ever got sick, I don't think I could carry you very far."

They both laughed at that. Víriel lifted her gaze and said, "Looks like she survived after all."

Bilbo turned around to see Holly descending the staircase, looking pained but alive. He watched her say something to Thorin and gesture to her head, making the dwarf smile. Bilbo smiled to himself, glad they were being friendly with each other.

He turned around to see Víriel smirking at him. "What?"

"Looks like you have a type."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dark hair, striking eyes, tragic past…" Víriel shrugged. "I can see the appeal."

"Wha—no. That's not—I don't—" He looked up as Holly approached their table. Víriel was right. If they weren't of different races, they could have been siblings.

"Everything all right?" Holly asked.

"Yes," he said, hoping he wasn't blushing. "Did you drink the tea I gave you?"

"I did," she said as she sat down next to Víriel. "And I think all that hot water is just boiling my brain now."

The ranger nudged her with one elbow. "Last night was fun."

Holly dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Was it? I wouldn't know."

A slight hesitation entered Víriel's voice as she asked, "How much do you remember?"

"I remember drinking, which was likely the first in a series of bad choices." Holly groaned. "Did I do anything stupid?"

"You were convinced we were on a boat."

Holly frowned and turned to look her in the eye. "Anything else?"

"I had to half-carry you upstairs to your bed. And then you talked about...what was it? The tensile strength of cotton fibers, I think. You lectured me about that for a _really_ long time before you fell asleep. But no raunchy tavern songs, at least."

Holly sighed and put her face back in her hands. "Remind me never to touch alcohol again."

Víriel reached under the table to pat her knee. "Someone's got to get rid of your terrible drinking habit."

Bilbo turned to Thorin as he sat back down. "What's the plan, then? We're heading back to Erebor, right?"

"No," he said, exchanging a knowing glance with Víriel. Apparently they'd discussed this while he'd been upstairs with Holly. "We're closer to Mordor than we are to Erebor. We know for certain that other people are after the ring, and it's imperative that we destroy it as soon as possible, before it falls into the wrong hands."

Holly bit her lip, uncertainty tugging her lips into a frown for a moment. "I agree. We've come this far, and we'd best see it finished before...before we lose anyone else."

"But that's exactly why we should head back to Erebor," Bilbo said. "We've already lost half of our group, and if we enter one of the most dangerous places in Middle Earth, it's possible we'll lose more. We should regroup, try and get reinforcements." He turned to Thorin, looking for reassurance, but the resolve in the dwarf's gaze did not waver.

Víriel leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "If you're concerned about our numbers, then we should head south anyway. Soon, we'll be in ranger territory, and I'll be able to get my people to help us."

"Are you sure we can trust them?" Thorin asked.

"They're rangers. Of course we can," she said, eyebrows drawing together. "But I won't tell anyone more than they need to know. We should probably keep that," she gestured with her chin in Bilbo's direction, "as much of a secret as possible."

Bilbo opened his mouth to argue, but Holly spoke over him, "Everyone's already made their case. And we are not splitting up again." She locked eyes with him, but the sympathy in her gaze wasn't reaching him the way it should have. "It's not the most desirable option, but it's the one we have to choose."

He was outnumbered, and there was no way he would be able to convince them to change their course. Bilbo leaned back in his chair and nodded, trying not to feel resentful.

"All right." Thorin stood up. "We get what supplies we need and leave. I want to cover as much ground as possible today."

They set out a little before noon, the sun covering the grass in a golden haze as they walked along the dirt road. It was definitely preferable to fighting through dense undergrowth, as he and Víriel had been forced to do for the past month.

As they walked, Holly put one hand on his arm and held him back, so they could talk in private.

"I know why you want to return to Erebor," she said, casting an unhappy glance at Thorin back. "He deserves to go home. You both do."

Bilbo lowered his gaze to the path.

"I just wanted you to know that I understand. I know this is hard for you." Holly put a hand on his back, giving him a tentative smile. "But you'll be back before you know it, all right?"

Bilbo forced himself to return her smile. "Right." If that was what she wanted to believe, then he wouldn't stop her. But he didn't want to return to Erebor so he could see the kingdom itself again.

If they backtracked to Erebor, it would delay the destruction of the ring by months. And although he knew it was selfish and wrong, he wanted to spend just a little more time with it in his possession.

As they began walking again, he moved one hand to his coat pocket, rubbing his fingertips over the cool metal. Certainly, it wouldn't hurt if he kept it for a while longer.

* * *

The air was hazy and warm when they stopped to make camp. As dusk began to fall, a few fireflies winked into existence, hovering lazily over the dim gold fields.

Bilbo settled against a small boulder, resting his hands on his stomach. They had decided against a campfire, since it was rather hot, and they had no game to cook anyway.

"All clear to the south," Holly said, stepping around his boulder and leaning against it.

"Nothing to the north," Thorin replied, approaching from the opposite direction. Despite this, he still had one hand on his sword. Bilbo couldn't exactly blame him, after everything they had been through.

"What exactly are you two looking for?" Víriel asked around the piece of twine she had in her mouth. She took it out and began tying it around the end of one of her arrows. "These plains are empty, save the occasional traveler. Or clueless merchant," she added with a glance in Holly's direction.

"He wasn't a merchant. He was a chamberlain," Holly said, picking at her sleeve.

"Well, now he's a horse-less man lying in the grass."

Víriel had told Bilbo about Holly's desperate act to make sure he reached the village in time. Though he didn't exactly agree with how she'd gone about it, he was grateful, and hoped she didn't feel more guilty than she already did for everything that had happened.

"Once we get closer to Mordor, you'll have something to worry about," Víriel said.

"Orcs?" Thorin asked, glancing at the pile of repaired arrows at her feet.

"Mostly. Their numbers have been growing as of late." She tested the edge of an arrowhead against her thumb. "We may encounter other creatures as well. There's been talk of four-legged creatures, like wargs but more vicious, and poisonous ghouls that rise from the ground and attack anyone in sight."

"So, your standard dark magic fare," Holly said.

"Exactly." Víriel shifted her gaze to the south, where the sky had turned a dark blue. "Rangers don't often enter Mordor. Our task is to protect the borders, and make sure no evil creatures cross into Gondor. Once we get inside, I won't be much help to you lot."

"That's not true," Bilbo said. "We could still use someone who's good with a bow. You're also clever, and you know how to get yourself out of a rough situation."

She put a hand over her heart. "You flatter me, Bilbo." But her smile was genuine.

"When did these creatures appear?" Holly asked, fingers absently tapping against the boulder. "When I lived in Minas Tirith, I only ever heard of orcs in Mordor."

"Things have changed in the past couple of years. The air has become fouler, if that's even possible, and the land more dangerous." Víriel crossed her arms. "No one is quite sure why that is, but it doesn't show signs of going back to normal."

"It's a good thing, then, that we're off to destroy an object of pure evil. Not like the world needs more of it."

Víriel added another arrow to her stack. "Small steps."

Bilbo lowered his gaze, feeling an unexpected twinge of discomfort. He was beginning to dread reaching Mordor, and that disturbed him. The ring had placed a strange weight on his soul for a long time, and by all rights he should be eager to be rid of it.

He closed his eyes, trying to clear the knot of worry from his mind. Perhaps Holly was right—their journey would be over before he knew it, and he would be back in Erebor soon. Then, hopefully, he could find some peace.

When Bilbo opened his eyes again, the stars were shining bright against the inky sky. He shifted and rubbed the back of his neck, which had become rather stiff from his leaning against the boulder.

The fields were nearly silent, though the number of fireflies floating about seemed to have doubled. Holly and Víriel were both asleep, and Thorin was standing off to one side, gazing off into the distance.

Bilbo stood up and stretched. He made his way over to Thorin, the dry grass rustling under his feet. "How long was I asleep?"

"Only a few hours," he replied, glancing at him with a slight smile. "Though I can't imagine it was comfortable, sleeping against a boulder."

"Well, you don't look too comfortable yourself, standing here like a statue."

"I'm used to it. When I was younger, my grandfather would have me do shifts with the guards sometimes. That meant standing for hours on end with not much to look at."

"Why would he have you do that?"

"He wanted me to understand what it was like to live as a common citizen of Erebor. I had other tasks too—cooking, mining, smithing. He thought it would make me a better king if I understood the daily lives of my people."

"Interesting. Do you think it worked?"

"I do. I learned much more, though, after Smaug came. It was then that I truly learned hardship. What it meant to be hungry and cold, to have all sense of entitlement stripped away. That was the true test of my ability as a ruler."

Bilbo clasped his hands together. He knew it wasn't easy for Thorin to talk about his life after the dragon attacked, and didn't want to push him to say more than he wanted to. "That must have been difficult."

Thorin turned to look at him. The moon lit up the sharp lines of his nose and cheekbones, and Bilbo was struck by the fact that he had endured so much hardship and suffering, only to survive with all the more courage and wisdom to show for it.

"What is it?" Thorin asked. "You look pensive."

He blushed and looked away. "It's nothing." He cleared his throat. "You know, I haven't seen this many fireflies in a long time. Since I left the Shire, actually."

Thorin was silent for a moment, then asked, "Why did you never go back?"

Originally he had wanted to wait and see if Holly would come back. And then after a year of waiting he had started to make excuses for himself—he would wait until it was warmer, he wanted to finish his account of the quest, he had a cold and needed to get better. But Bilbo realized now why he had never gone back.

"I suppose I do still miss Bag End. That was where I grew up, after all. But it's not my home anymore. Home, for me, is safe and dependable. For the first time in a while, I've found a place where I feel that I belong. Home has always been there for me, and I know I can always talk to...home...if I have something on my mind."

"I'm glad you feel that way," Thorin said, a soft smile gracing his lips. Then his expression turned somber. "Bilbo, if we are to continue this, I need you to know something. I care very deeply for you, but as king, my heart and mind must always be with my people. I can never truly devote all my time and attention to you—or as much as I would wish to."

"I understand," Bilbo said. He knew how busy Thorin could be. During the past couple of years it had been difficult to snag even a few minutes of time with him some days. But despite that, they had managed to strengthen their friendship. "And I don't mind."

"Good." Thorin reached out and clasped his hand. "Then you'll stay in Erebor with me?"

Bilbo grinned. "Of course I will. I thought I'd made that quite clear already."

He glanced down at their joined hands and felt his heart lift. If they managed to survive this last leg of their journey, then he was certain something other than peace awaited him back at Erebor.

Thorin had given him a promise of his own—a promise of a future, a happy one, back home.

* * *

Léonere placed one hand on the man's shoulder, gently shaking him. "Hello? Are you all right?"

He had found him lying in the grass with an unopened waterskin next to his head. There was a purplish-red bruise on his temple, where he had been struck with a blunt object.

He shook the man's shoulder again, harder this time. "Can you hear me?"

"What a shame," Annatar said, kneeling down on the other side of the body. "I don't think he's going to wake up."

Léonere's head shot up. "Why do you say that?"

Annatar's long, pale fingers gestured to the man's face. "His face is flushed. Dehydration. He's got dust and bugs in his hair. Clearly he's been lying here for days."

Léonere picked up the waterskin, and found it to be full. "How did this happen?"

"He got a nasty knock on the head," Annatar gestured to the bruise. "Sometimes wounds like that put a person to sleep, and they waste away before they wake. I've seen it happen before."

Léonere shook his head, standing up and trying to clear the nausea from his gut. In the past few months he had seen more death and violence than he'd thought possible. He dropped the waterskin and made to walk away, then stopped.

"Something wrong?" Annatar asked.

"I wish there was more I could do. I don't want to just leave him here," he said, and waited for Annatar to scoff at him.

Instead, the man shrugged and glanced at the body. "You could put him out of his misery. I know if I was in an eternal sleep I wouldn't want to be eaten alive by insects."

Léonere shuddered at the thought and knelt back down next to the man. His eyelids were pale, and his lips cracked and dry. He thought back to the thief Geth, how the violence of his body hitting the ground had rocked him to his very core.

This was different. The man lying here had no chance at life. It would be a mercy to hasten his departure from this world.

He withdrew the knife Annatar had made him take from Geth's body. "H-How do I…"

"His neck or his temple, whichever you'd prefer."

Léonere could hear the impatience in his voice, and tightened his grip on the knife. He held the tip against the man's throat, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

 _One. Two. Three._

He slid the knife into his soft flesh, trying not to gag as dark blood welled up and stained the hilt of the dagger. He slid it back out again and wiped it clean on the man's shirt, trying to keep his hands from shaking.

"Good work."

Léonere looked up to see Annatar gazing at him. There was no scorn or irritation in his gaze, only a patient sort of satisfaction that made some of the churning in his stomach lessen.

"We're getting closer to Mordor." Annatar turned his gaze south. "The road will be more dangerous, and you will need to be strong. Are you ready?"

Léonere stood up and stowed away his knife. "I am. I'm ready."

 **Welcome to Part 2 of Bilbo and Thorin being completely ridiculous saps…**

 **Now that (most of) the gang is all together again, there's going to be much more ridiculous sappery. Just a couple more chapters, really, and then we'll be moving into the actual climax of the story.**

 **Speaking of action, I also had Viriel foreshadow some of the monsters our heroes will be encountering later on. They're all from Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor (which, by the way, is a really fun game and I suggest you try it if you have a PS4 and you like hot dwarves).**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a comment letting me know what you liked/disliked. I would really appreciate it.**


	20. Ghosts in the Wasteland

**Chapter 20: Ghosts in the Wasteland**

"What is this place?" Bilbo asked, surveying the wasted landscape. "It looks…"

"Disgusting?" Holly offered, falling into stride next to him. "This is Dagorlad. The land was destroyed during the War of the Last Alliance. And after that, the Gondorians kept having battles with the Easterlings here, so the land never got a chance to heal."

They had already seen the desolation caused by war, having passed through the Brown Lands a few weeks before. But Dagorlad seemed to be frozen in time, as though the fog of war still hung above the scorched earth. Foul pools of mud were scattered about the land, and the haze of the Dead Marshes hung low on the western horizon.

"This is what war does to the land," Thorin said. "And Gondor carries many scars of the battles they have fought."

"I was going to say this looks like the land around Erebor and Dale," Bilbo said. "While the dragon was still occupying the mountain."

Holly and Thorin fell silent at this comment. Víriel turned from where she was leading the group and began walking backwards so she could speak to him directly. "The closer we get to Mordor, the more bleak the land will become. Though Ithilien isn't so bad. We've still got plenty of forests and—"

"Watch your step," Holly said, right before Víriel stumbled over a loose stone that caught her heel. She smirked. "You're rather clumsy, for a ranger."

"At least I can keep my grip on my weapon," Víriel said, and pointed at the short sword at Holly's waist. "I'll be wanting that back once this is over, by the way. Swords don't come cheap."

"Are you sure you want something this sharp around? You might get injured when you trip over it."

Víriel gave her a rude gesture with one hand and turned to walk normally again. "We should be getting close to the Black Gate. Stay on your guard."

They passed a group of tall, jagged rocks and their destination came into view.

The Black Gate was massive. It stood about half a mile wide and was made of sheer stone the color of obsidian. On either side stood the Towers of the Teeth. It was an apt title—the gate resembled the maw of a massive, fanged beast ready to swallow its prey.

At the moment, it was closed. Holly could see a few people standing on top of the gate.

"Should we knock?" Bilbo asked.

Víriel gave a small, uncertain hum in response, then motioned them to follow her to a small ridge. They crouched down behind it. Holly watched her face as she scanned the wall, a small frown tugging at her lips.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Orcs."

Holly turned back to the top of the gate and recognized the hunched, swaggering gait. Those were no rangers.

"Orcs have taken the gate?" Thorin asked.

Víriel sighed. "We've been fighting a losing battle with the orcs of Mordor. I'd only hoped we might be able to hold it long enough for us to get inside."

Bilbo drew in a sharp breath. "There. At the bottom of the gate."

Holly squinted against the dust to identify the dark mass moving towards the entrance. A group of riders, she realized, all cloaked in black.

Her eyes widened. " _Bastards_." She leapt up, hand flying to her sword, but Víriel grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Killing them." Even if she didn't get them all, it would be enough to diminish their number. She struggled as Víriel tightened her grip around her waist. Fear seized at her chest. "Let me go!"

"And let you run over and get yourself killed? Not likely." She leaned back as Holly's elbow narrowly missed her face.

"They are going to pay for what they did—"

Bilbo took hold of her forearm. "Except they didn't do anything. Let it go."

"They've been hounding us for months. I'm not just going to let them—"

"That's _enough_." Thorin's voice caused them all to fall silent. "Víriel, let her go."

She loosened her grip, and when Holly didn't try and run, she released her.

"Our purpose isn't to kill the riders," he said. "Víriel's right. Attacking now would be suicide." He turned to the ranger. "So the orcs have taken the gate. Can we make it through this way or not?"

Víriel shook her head. "We'd need a much larger force for that, and I doubt I could convince the captain to launch a siege. If we go to Ithilien, though, I can speak with him and see if I can get a few men to help us."

"Is there another way in?"

"Yes, though it's not going to be much easier than going that way." She gestured to the gate. "But we'll have better odds once we get some help."

"Why aren't they coming after us?" Bilbo asked, his eyes still transfixed on the riders. The gate creaked open just wide enough for them to pass through, and the black-cloaked group disappeared inside. "They've found us easily enough before."

"Perhaps they have other orders." Holly glared at the gate as it closed. "We need to find out who they answer to."

"Yes, you can go on your quest for vengeance after we destroy the ring," Víriel said. "For now, we need to backtrack to the fork in the road we passed earlier. From there, we go to Ithilien."

"Let's move, then." Thorin stood up, watching the gate as he motioned for the others to follow.

Bilbo went to walk beside Thorin, but when Víriel made to stand up as well, Holly grabbed the front of her coat, keeping her at eye level.

"Don't ever touch me like that again."

Víriel frowned and met her stare. "I'm not going to apologize for saving your life. What you did was reckless and stupid, and I know you're better than that."

"If you knew anything about me, you would know not to grab me like that." Holly released her coat and moved past her to catch up with Thorin and Bilbo.

* * *

The path had brought them close to the borders of the Dead Marshes. It smelled and looked even fouler up close. Holly scowled at the tendrils of fog that twisted like skeletal fingers under the moonlight. She had been on this road years ago, and the sight of the marshes had frightened her, initially.

Now, all she felt was anger. The old tales claimed the soldiers who died in the marshes could still be seen floating in the water. The whole place was a vile manifestation of the death and suffering they had all endured so far, and the enemies and terrors they had yet to face.

And Holly was furious—at the riders, and the goblins, and the nameless monsters of Mordor for threatening her friends, at herself for failing to keep them safe, at her mind for creating danger where there was none and driving up walls between herself and her friends.

When Óin had identified her condition as an illness, she had let herself grow hopeful. Illnesses could be cured. A part of her had wanted to use find the chalice for her own benefit.

That hope had been dashed, as well. She knew exactly how Thorin felt—what it meant for his own mind to keep him from doing what he loved.

Holly glanced at the sky. It was almost midnight, and her time on watch nearly over. She sighed and stood up. Víriel was lying on her back a few feet away, one hand resting on her stomach.

She walked over and shook her shoulder. Víriel opened her eyes after a few seconds and sat up.

She stretched and rolled her neck. "My turn?"

Holly watched the ranger's hair brush along her jaw as she moved her head, then realized she was staring and moved her gaze to a clump of grass. "Um, yes."

The ranger stood up and moved to the edge of their camp without another word. Holly laid down and wrapped her arms around her middle. They hadn't spoken much since Holly had snapped at her at the gate. She wanted to make amends, but wasn't sure if she was the one who needed to apologize. Then again, Víriel hadn't done anything objectively wrong. She wasn't responsible for Holly's irrational fear.

Praying her uneasiness would abate for once, Holly closed her eyes and let the chirping of insects lull her to sleep.

She dreamed of the Dead Marshes. The corpses of countless soldiers lay in the water, staring hard at its surface as though it was only a thin glass veil separating them from the world of the living. The wiry grass and wilting reeds began to shake as the ground rumbled. The water rippled as hundreds of withered hands burst to the surface—

She sat up with a gasp and pushed herself to her feet. Víriel turned as she hurried to her side, breathing hard.

"The Dead Marshes," Holly gasped, staring at the fog with newfound terror.

"There they are." Víriel crossed her arms. "What, did you have another nightmare?"

"The dead are in there. Bilbo's ring—it raises the dead. If we have that many soldiers coming at us—"

"Those soldiers died hundreds of years ago. They can't attack us if their bodies have rotted away to nothing."

"But their _spirits_ are still there. We could have an army of ghosts coming after us. I don't know how to fight ghosts."

"Holly, listen to yourself." Víriel reached her hands out, as if she wanted to put them on her shoulders, then seemed to think better of it. "We're not going to be attacked by ghosts, or undead, or anything coming out of those marshes—except a few mosquitoes, perhaps. Now go get some rest and stop worrying."

"Stop worrying," Holly repeated, her fear twisting into anger. "What do you know about worry? You haven't a _damn_ care in the world."

"I didn't mean it like that. In fact, I probably shouldn't have said it at all. I'm sorry."

She mimicked her posture and crossed her arms. "You don't know for certain that the marshes aren't full of ghosts."

Víriel rolled her eyes. "And you don't know for certain that there _are_ ghosts."

"Then I'll go see for myself." Holly made to walk out to the swamps, but Víriel put a hand out, stopping her.

"You're going into a haunted swamp by yourself?"

"So you _do_ agree that there are ghosts."

Víriel groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. "You are insufferable."

"Someone needs to watch the camp, so you can't come with me. I'll be back in a few minutes." She put one hand on her sword and began walking toward the marshes.

"No. No, Holly, stay here, please."

Something in her voice made her turn around. Víriel extended one hand, her gaze somewhere between pleading and reproachful.

Holly reached out, hesitated, and took her hand.

"Good." Víriel pulled her down so they were sitting side by side in the grass. "If you're so worried about these ghosts, then you can stay up with me and watch out for them. It won't make a difference whether you see them there, or we see them here, and I think you and I can both agree that it's better if none of us go off alone."

"Right." Holly shifted into a more comfortable position. Víriel did have a point. Perhaps she had overreacted. "Fine. I'll stay here."

Víriel squeezed her hand, and Holly couldn't bring herself to pull away. "I'm sorry about, um, grabbing you earlier. I won't do it again, on one condition."

"What?"

"Stop taking stupid risks and trying to get yourself killed. There are plenty of people who like you better alive." She gestured with her chin to where Thorin and Bilbo were sleeping. "And they need you."

Holly lowered her gaze. She still had days where she had trouble believing that.

Víriel smirked and elbowed her lightly. "Besides, you still owe me a drink."

She glared, though there was no real heat behind it. "You come and look at that swamp with me, and I'll give you a _drink_."

"Oh, please, have mercy." Víriel held up her hands in mock-defense. "What have I done to incur the wrath of the bog-witch?"

"I'm not a witch. I'm a mage." Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd met plenty of people before who failed to recognize the distinction. "While the term mage refers to humans who cast magic, witches fall under the category of those who practice dark magic. Furthermore, the methods in which a wi—"

Víriel laid two fingers against Holly's lips, cutting her off. "Please, spare me the lecture. I'm not sure I want to see how long you can go on when you're sober."

"All right, then." She crossed her arms. "I'll stop talking altogether, if it pleases her majesty."

Holly fell silent, scanning the marshes in the distance. She could see Víriel staring at her out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned, the ranger shifted her gaze to the horizon.

"What?"

"Breaking your vow of silence so soon? It's been, what, ten seconds?"

She sighed and folded her arms her knees. "You were distracting me." Even as she said the words, she felt her cheeks grow warm. "You should be watching the marshes, not the side of my face."

"All right. Let's keep an eye out for those ghosts, shall we?"

Holly grunted and pressed her chin against one arm. Some of her anxiety had faded, but she wasn't ready to let her guard up.

Even if she was still afraid, she felt a bit of comfort at the fact that Víriel was willing to sit with her through it. She could be irritating at times, but Holly liked her all the same.

 _Focus._ They still had a few hours before second watch was over. After that, she would try and catch some rest. She needed to be strong—if not for herself, then for her friends.

* * *

The days became cooler as they traveled. The air became pleasantly warm instead of unbearably hot as summer waned into autumn.

A cool breeze swept over the road, and Holly lifted her head. "We're getting close."

"To where?" Thorin asked, moving so he could walk beside her.

"Cair Andros," she replied. The island was set on the Anduin, and acted as a garrison for Gondor's northern defenses. "Have you ever been this far south before?"

"Once, when I was very young, so I don't remember much."

"We'll probably get a glimpse of Minas Tirith in a few days. I think you'll like it. It's carved straight from the mountain. Though the people live on the outside."

"You lived there for some time, didn't you?"

"Several years. I travelled on this very road, about…" Holly tilted her head. "It was around ten years ago, I believe. Back when I first left Laketown."

"Were you seeking a trade in Gondor?"

"I wanted to see what the rest of the world had to offer. There was no future for me in a rotting town on a lake." She glanced at him. "You've been there. I don't know how people can tolerate living in a place like that."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Not everyone is as ambitious as you."

"Ambitious?" Holly smiled and shook her head. "I wouldn't call it that. I may have higher expectations than most of the people in Laketown, but that's a rather low bar to set." She lowered her gaze to the road, debating on whether or not to ask the question that had come to mind. "Did you ever want to leave Erebor? Before Smaug, I mean."

He shook his head. "I never wanted to leave for good. And I never allowed myself to think about travelling for the sake of exploration. My duty to my people always came first."

"How do you do it? Live for others instead of yourself?"

Thorin turned to look her in the eye, and though he did not seem irritated at her questions, his gaze was tinged with sadness. "For me, they are one and the same."

Holly fell silent. Surely he didn't know every single one of Erebor's citizens, at least not well enough to care about them personally. She didn't understand how he could care about someone he didn't know, or how pleasing them could be fulfilling to him. But there were quite a few things that she didn't understand when it came to other people.

The talk of Erebor was dampening the mood anyway, so she decided to change the subject. "Bilbo told me about, um…" She made a vague gesture with one hand. "You two."

"Oh." The sorrow disappeared from Thorin's face, replaced by something akin to awkwardness.

"Congratulations," she said with a slight smile.

"You're not upset?"

"No. Of course not. You have my blessing with…" She made another vague gesture. "Whatever you...endeavor..."

Thorin smiled. "Thank you."

"We're here," Víriel said from the front of the group. She made a grand gesture with her arm as they passed a copse of trees and the island came into sight.

Cair Andros had six wide bridges, three on either side, that connected the island to the mainland. As they crossed the nearest one, Bilbo looked over to the other two and asked, "Why do they have so many bridges? Shouldn't that weaken the defenses?"

"This isn't just a fort," Víriel said. "Families and businesses live here as well. In the case of an attack, they need an easy way to evacuate the civilians."

"That was one of the reasons so many people died when Smaug attacked Laketown," Holly said. "They only had that one tiny bridge to the mainland, and that was one of the first things the dragon destroyed."

"And while a wider bridge would make it easier for the enemy to approach, it also makes it easier for the soldiers to move out, or bring supplies in," Thorin said.

"Thorin is right," Víriel said. "The soldiers here mainly operate on preemptive strikes against attacks from Mordor. It's more of a place for them to live and prepare, rather than waiting to defend the garrison itself."

Bilbo nodded. "Interesting."

The inn was only a few streets from where they entered. It was evening when they arrived, so the tavern on the first floor was already full. Many of the patrons still had their soldier's uniform on.

While Thorin went to get them a room, Víriel, Holly, and Bilbo sat down at a table near the door.

"I bet they have the good stuff here." Víriel leaned back so the front two legs of her chair were off the ground. "Gondorian soldiers always get the best ale."

"You should try the brew at the Green Dragon in the Shire," Bilbo said. "Best I've ever had, and I've tried quite a few places since I left."

Víriel grinned. "Sounds like a plan, then." She turned to Holly. "What do you say? Want to come get drinks with us in the Shire?"

Holly stretched her foot out and pushed the leg of Víriel's chair, nearly sending her toppling backwards. She grabbed the edge of the table to regain her balance and glared. Holly smirked at her.

Bilbo grinned and patted her back. "Don't worry. We'll give you some in a little cup so you don't get _too_ drunk."

She looked up as Thorin approached their table and fixed him with a pleading stare. "Please, help me. These two drunkards are harassing me."

Thorin smiled and laid a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "I'm going to try and get a map of the area."

Víriel frowned. "I know this region well enough."

"I don't doubt it, but I still want to take a look for myself."

Bilbo stood up. "I'll go with you." He turned back to Holly and Víriel and winked. "Someone has to make sure he doesn't get lost."

Holly grinned and shook her head as the two of them walked out. That seemed to be a running joke between the two of them that she didn't quite understand.

She sat back and let out a long sigh. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, she'd been trapped underground with little hope of ever reaching the surface or her friends again. There were times when she still worried that she would wake up and find herself back in the tunnels, and that her escape had been nothing more than a dream.

Everything she'd thought she'd lost been had returned to her, and she prayed she would not lose it again.

Holly stood up. "Let's go up to the room. I'm not too keen to sit here in the midst of all these sweaty soldiers."

Víriel was staring at the wall on the other side of the table, a small frown on her face. When Holly moved, she looked up and her face cleared. "All right."

They checked with the innkeeper about the location of their room, then proceeded upstairs. The room was a decent size, and its window overlooked a small courtyard next to the inn. There was only one problem.

"Why are there only two beds?" Holly asked.

"You didn't seem to mind the last time we stayed at an inn." Víriel deposited her pack against one wall.

"Hm, I wonder why that was?" She crossed her arms and went to stand in the middle of the room.

The corners of her lips turned up. "We can share again. Unless you have an objection."

Holly flushed. She'd never shared a bed with another person—in any context. "Well, I probably won't sleep much tonight. I'm not tired."

"Don't be ridiculous. You need to rest. I know you haven't been sleeping as much these past few days."

"Really, I'll be fine. Three hours is normal for m—" Holly yelped as Víriel scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. She flinched and backed away. "No, please, stop."

Víriel's playful grin faded as she realized Holly was genuinely afraid. "I-I wasn't...I'm not going to hurt you." She lowered her head. "Dammit, I know I promised not to do that. I'm sorry."

Holly sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Humiliation twisted in her gut. "It's not your fault." She drew her knees to her chest and willed herself to calm down. "I...I just wish I wasn't so damn afraid all the time. Back in the caves, I thought if I convinced myself I wasn't going to live, I would stop being so afraid. But I can't get rid of it. I can't control it." She pressed her lips together. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say all that."

The mattress dipped as Víriel went to sit beside her, though she kept a respectful distance. "I don't mind. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

"I don't hate you that much," Holly said, forcing a smile.

"All right." With a sigh, Víriel shifted onto her back, hair splayed against the pillow. "But my offer still stands. And if I try to grab you again, you are free to give me a swift punch in the face."

Holly noticed the ranger had neglected to take off her boots, so she reached over and began unlacing them.

"Having fun down there?" Víriel asked, lifting her head to look at her.

"If I'm going to be sleeping in this bed, I don't want mud all over the blankets."

"Says the person who left track marks all over my side of the bed." She pointed to where Holly's boots had scuffed dirt onto the fabric.

She scowled. "Do your own boots, then." She started unlacing hers. "And you might as well take your filthy coat off, too."

"Oh, like—" Víriel began, then stopped.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Holly turned to see her gazing at the ceiling with an excessive amount of concentration. She rolled her eyes and tossed one boot to the floor.

Once she had removed her outer layers, Holly laid down on her side, facing away from Víriel. The ranger eventually sat up and removed her coat and boots, and Holly felt every little movement as she shifted and settled back onto the bed.

"Good night, Holly."

"Night." She shifted into a more comfortable position, and wondered if Víriel could feel her movements as well.

She shoved the thought away as soon as it appeared. It was stupid of her to dwell on things that would only distract her from the task at hand. The last thing she needed was to get caught up in thoughts of bright blonde hair and full lips—

Holly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of anything else. If things had been different, perhaps she would have opened herself to such feelings. But she couldn't afford to accommodate anything extraneous when they had such a dangerous road laid out before them.

The last thing she wanted was to begin something that she could not continue.

 **So I got a job (fast food—ugh) and then I had to go get settled at college for the first time, so there's my excuse for this long-ass delay. But this is the last of the "break" chapters, and the next one will be the beginning of what is basically the climax/ending. But that's going to take quite a few chapters to complete, so we're not at the end just yet! You guys might get mad at me again…**

 **In this chapter, I bestow upon you more fluff and nice bonding time for everyone. There's going to be more of that next chapter (sorry if you're getting tired of it) but I have to fit that all in before the action happens.**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who's been sticking with this story, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was, and what you think is coming next. I'd really appreciate it.**

 **And as I would say at Wendy's, have a great day!**


	21. Together and Alone

**Chapter 21: Together and Alone**

When Holly woke, the first thing she noticed was the abnormal intensity of her heartbeat. It seemed to be pressing from both the inside and the outside of her ribcage, creating a calming rhythm that reverberated through her body. She blinked slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet. For the moment, all her worries had faded to the background, and she allowed herself to relax.

Then she realized, with a jolt that was equal parts horror and surprise, that the heartbeat she was feeling was not her own, and that her chest was partially pressed against another's.

She was lying on her side, with one arm draped over Víriel's stomach and her head resting on the ranger's shoulder. One lock of blonde hair rested mere inches from her eyes, so close that Holly could have counted each strand if she'd wanted to.

 _How in Eru's name did this happen?_ They had fallen asleep on completely opposite sides of the bed. Holly felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. She fought the urge to leap up and sever all contact with the other woman—if she did that, it would wake her up, and she would have to explain how they had ended up in such a position. They were both lying on Víriel's side of the bed, after all, which made Holly the intruder.

Slowly, she lifted the arm from Víriel's stomach and began to roll away from her. The ranger sighed and shifted, and Holly froze. Her arm was hovering awkwardly, and after a moment's consideration, she placed it back in its original position.

Víriel sighed again, and Holly could feel the full rise and fall of her chest. "Morning," she said. Her voice was slightly raspy and Holly could feel the vibrations of her voice against her jaw.

"Hm." She didn't trust herself to speak. Perhaps Víriel was merely talking in her sleep. That wasn't likely at all, but she was holding out for any thread of hope that would rescue her from this humiliating situation.

Holly watched in trepidation as Víriel raised the arm that wasn't currently trapped under her head, presumably to push her away—

—and felt her fingers settle against her scalp, then run against the length of her hair.

"You have such nice hair," Víriel said. Holly wondered if she was delirious for some reason, or simply half-asleep. The ranger's hand fell still. "Sorry, is this all right? Me touching your hair?"

Holly was about to say that they had moved far past that threshold considering the way the length of their bodies were pressed together, but then she stopped and considered the question. Was it all right? Was this something friends did?

She had never seen any of the dwarves do that to each other or to her, and Bilbo had never touched her hair like this.

It didn't feel _bad_ , but Holly felt terribly awkward in regards to the whole situation. At the same time, though, she had lost the urge to jump up and run from the room A tiny part of her preferred to stay where she was.

"Yes, it's all right."

Víriel resumed her stroking. "I could braid it again, if you'd like."

"I-If you want to."

They lay in silence for a while. Despite herself, Holly began to relax. This wasn't bad at all.

"Can I tell you something?" Víriel asked.

"What is it?"

"I've lost feeling in my left arm."

Holly realized this was where her head was resting, and sat up so fast she felt dizzy for a moment. "Sorry, I didn't realize—"

"It's fine." Víriel flexed her arm to regain its feeling. "You know, if you wanted a warm body to sleep with, you could have just asked."

"No, that's not—I wasn't—I think it just happened in my sleep. I-I have a condition." Holly braced one hand on the bed and shifted slightly so they weren't pressed up against each other. "I hope I didn't disturb you."

Víriel waved her off. "I was already asleep."

She knew the ranger was a light sleeper, and didn't know if she should believe her, but decided not to pursue the topic.

She glanced at the bed on the other side of the room. Thorin and Bilbo were still asleep, and were lying a respectable distance apart. She tried not to scowl and turned back to Víriel.

"Let's give them some quiet. I think I might take a walk."

"Good idea."

They dressed quickly and left the inn. It was early morning and the streets were empty except for a few guards changing shifts. The sky was clouded gray, but not enough to darken the island.

They roamed the streets for a while, and found themselves on the wall that encircled the fortress. The guards paid them no heed, so Holly leaned her elbows against the battlement and watched the waters of the Anduin ripple and flow.

She started as she felt a tug on her hair, but it was only Víriel.

"Do you mind?" she asked as she brushed it behind her shoulders.

"No," Holly said, standing up straight to give her better access.

"I could try something a bit different this time," she said, her voice brightening. "I haven't had a chance to practice on a head of hair other than my own since—" Víriel cut herself off and began combing through Holly's hair in silence.

Holly tilted her head, unsure if she should press her or not. "Hm?"

Víriel cleared her throat. "Once we reach Osgiliath, I should be able to get in touch with a ranger. Then we can see about getting into Mordor."

"Do you think they'll be willing to help us?"

"Someone will. I know the people that will be most willing to hear me out, and I'll go to them first."

That didn't sound entirely convincing.

"Your sister would definitely help us, once she returns to Ithilien," Víriel said.

" _Help_ us…" Holly scowled. "She'll take charge and won't listen to anyone's opinion but her own."

"Myra's changed quite a bit since you last saw her."

"No, she hasn't."

Víriel sighed. "She's not an orc, Holly. She's not trying to kill you or hurt you. Perhaps you don't want to see it, but she wants you to be safe. You'd be much happier if you just let her be your sister."

"And how would you know? Do you have a sister?"

She was silent for a moment. "I did."

Holly's voice caught in her throat. "Oh."

"My twin." Víriel's voice was so quiet that Holly had to strain to hear her over the rushing of the water. "When we were sixteen, a plague swept through our camp, and…" She took a deep breath. "I miss her every day. She was my best friend."

Holly felt Víriel's hands leave her hair, and turned so she could look her in the eye. Her gaze, heavy with sadness, was focused on something the distance.

A moment later, she blinked it away. "I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. But you should know what you have, in case you lose it one day. You didn't have to do anything to get your sister to care about you. And that's pretty damn valuable."

"I…" Holly swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat. She knew exactly what it felt like to lose a close family member. "I'm so sorry about your sister. And I'll remember what you said."

The smile she received was soft, and devoid of its usual playfulness. "That's all I can ask of you."

Holly held out her arms, then hesitated, realizing where her face would be if she moved any closer.

Víriel raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Red flared up her neck and onto her cheeks. "Nothing." She braced her hands on the battlements and pushed herself onto them, to give herself a little more height.

Víriel seemed to catch on and rolled her eyes. "Oh, all right." She moved between her legs and pulled her close.

Holly returned the embrace, resting her chin on the other woman's shoulder. This entirely contradicted what she had decided earlier about responding to her feelings. She knew she was being foolish—and yet the only thing she wanted to do at the moment was hold on.

* * *

The mountains made Thorin uneasy.

They loomed to the east, black as obsidian and wreathed in dark clouds, casting a shadow over the path as they walked. They stood as yet another reminder that Mordor was nigh-impenetrable, and that they had yet to find a reliable way inside.

And even if they did manage to enter Mordor…

"Those orcs on the gate," Bilbo said, as though he had read his thoughts. He spoke softly, so only Thorin could hear his words. "There will be more of them inside."

"We'll have to be careful."

"But what if that's not enough? We don't know how many there are. If we get outnumbered in a place like that, we'd never make it back."

"Speak your mind, Bilbo."

"We should wait until we have better odds. Y-You could call for reinforcements from Erebor, or—"

"You know I cannot do that. Only a handful of people in the mountain even know where I am. It isn't safe to wait, either."

"We could stay in Minas Tirith. Holly told me they've been defending against Mordor for years. We would be safe there."

Thorin couldn't hold back a frown. At first, he had believed Bilbo wanted to return to Erebor. Now it seemed that he simply wanted to delay their entry into Mordor. "Why do you continue to argue this point? We've already decided our course."

Bilbo's voice grew sharp as he said, "Thorin, we are not making the right choice here. If you lead us into Mordor, unprepared as we are, then we are all going to die. And I don't understand why I am the only one who sees this."

"And what would you have me do instead?" Thorin asked, matching his tone. "I am doing this to save lives, not end them. If we let this threat go unchecked, it will kill more than just the four of us."

Bilbo did not respond. Thorin turned to see him staring forward, his eyes hard. He felt his stomach turn. They had never agreed completely on any one issue, but Bilbo had never questioned his leadership before—save their confrontations while he had been under the influence of dragon sickness.

The issue of the ring had always been a point of contention between Bilbo and the rest of the group. Thorin couldn't help but wonder if this was due to the ring's influence. Another part of him worried that he was becoming blind to his own lapse in judgement, as he had been in his sickness.

Thorin didn't know who to trust, or if he could even trust himself. And as their journey grew more dangerous, this would only put everyone he cared about at risk.

* * *

"Mordor."

Léonere sighed and shifted the straps of his pack. The land was all craggy black rock and stormy clouds. Looking at it caused a thrill of dread to rise in his stomach, as though he was staring down the maw of a beast too massive to comprehend.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Annatar asked, stepping forward. "I believe we're close enough, now."

They had passed the Black Gate a few days ago, though instead of going farther south, they had traveled east along the Ash Mountains. Annatar had refused to answer any of his questions about where they were going, and Léonere hoped he would get some answers now.

"Close enough for what?"

Annatar stood in front of him, so close that Léonere had to resist the urge to step back. "Close your eyes. Can you feel it?"

He did as he was told, but all he could feel was the dry wind.

"Concentrate. Reach out for the magical energy that gathers when you cast a spell. It's nearly tangible here."

Léonere breathed in the scent of ash and hot grass. He could feel it—but instead of the energy floating around him like mist, it seemed to slide and writhe like oil. "This feels strange."

"Don't break your concentration, Léonere." Annatar's voice sounded closer, as though the man was whispering in his ear, though Léonere didn't dare open his eyes. "Take it in your hands. The magic is the bridle, and the world is your chariot. Focus. Follow the magic to its source."

Léonere clasped his hands into fists, gathering the magic around his knuckles, his wrists, his fingertips. He gasped as the magic grasped him back, and started to pull.

"Don't resist it," came Annatar's seductive whisper, and the next thing Léonere knew was a crushing blackness that seemed to twist and bend the very fiber of his being, stretching it across a thousand miles and then shrinking it back to a speck of dust.

He fell to his knees with a gasp, heaving in gulps of air as though his lungs had been completely emptied. Warm obsidian stone rested beneath his palms, and Léonere blinked. He was not on the plains outside of Mordor.

He stood on shaky legs and his eyes widened as they took in the gray and black rocks, jagged crags, and the red-hot glow of a volcano.

"It can't be." His mouth dry, Léonere turned to Annatar, who was standing next to him, looking unruffled as ever. "W-We're in Mordor?"

"Clearly. And I must admit, you completed that spell much faster than I anticipated." He smiled. "You truly are a talented mage."

"Spell? I uttered no incantation."

"Perhaps _spell_ isn't the right word. It was more of an...interaction with a source of magic." Annatar indicated their surroundings with a sweep of one arm. "Barad-dúr is a fountain of magical energy, one of the strongest in Middle Earth. It is here that we will complete our work."

They were standing in what must have been a large, circular room at one point, but was now the highest remaining room of a ruined tower. Though they must have been standing on one of the lower levels, they stood a great deal higher than the rest of Mordor.

This was Barad-dúr, the fortress from which Sauron had launched his attacks against the Free Peoples of Middle Earth.

Léonere began shaking his head. "You had me feed from the energy of an evil tower. You had me use _dark magic_." He rounded on Annatar. "How could you do such a thing?"

Annatar looked almost bored. "I did nothing. You felt the dark magic, and you accepted it. You'll have to get used to it, anyway. Our work will require you to draw from this place quite a bit more before we're done."

"No. I-I never agreed to this." He began walking away, searching for a way down from the tower. "I'm done."

"That's not a good thing, Léonere." Annatar called. "If you are done, then you have wasted a glorious opportunity. Do you truly wish to return to a life on the road? Alone? _Useless?_ If you stay, you will have a purpose and a friend."

"Being alone is a small price to pay if it means I keep my sanity." Léonere walked to the edge of the tower and looked down. The ground was a couple hundred feet below.

"The stairs are on the other side." He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "Where would you be without me, my friend?"

Léonere turned and locked eyes with the chilly gold of the other man.

"Truly, where?" Annatar walked closer with slow, deliberate steps. "You just transported us nearly one hundred miles in the blink of an eye, and with far less effort than would be required for lesser men. You were born to handle this kind of power, Léonere. And you _will_ be able to resist the dark magic's corruption, if you are half as strong as I know you are."

Léonere eyed the stairs. He longed to reach them, to escape this madness, but his heart kept him immobile in the center of the room. He had come this far, and abandoning his mission would mean yielding to a weakness that he had banished from his heart.

"It's a long way down," Annatar said, and it sounded like a whisper in his ear, though he was standing a few feet away. "You have so far to fall. Are you really willing to lose this?"

He couldn't move. He couldn't reconcile the use of dark magic, no matter how worthy the cause. But he _could_ , Léonere realized, do good with the power he possessed. He could make Annatar see the error in his beliefs.

If he could forge a compromise, then perhaps he could keep his purpose.

* * *

The city of Osgiliath had an almost mournful silence about it. Holly scanned the gray stone and saw no movement—even the wind seemed to have died. The crumbling walls and hollow windows only added to the city's ghostly appearance.

When Holly had lived in Minas Tirith, the shadow of Mordor had never been far off, and everyone in the city had had a clear view of the black mountains and gray clouds if they decided to raise their head and look east. But the sun had warmed the white stone of the city, and it had been easy to forget that they lived under the threat of invasion.

Osgiliath was nothing like that. The city had not been occupied by civilians for hundreds of years, and the devastation left by Mordor was impossible to disregard.

They approached the northwestern gate, crossing over a small bridge that led across one of the tributaries from the Anduin. Holly glanced at the dark water and frowned. The city was disturbingly reminiscent of Laketown, with its decaying appearance and dreary atmosphere.

A grim-faced ranger met them at the bridge. "Víriel. Who are they?" His eyes barely flickered over the other three members of their group.

"Allies," she said. "I need to speak with Arador. It's important."

"You need to report to Findegil first."

"Yes, I know," Víriel replied, and Holly could tell she was trying to keep the edge out of her voice. "But I can't do that if you're standing in my way."

The ranger's grim expression barely changed, though he gave the rest of their group another once-over before turning and walking back into the city.

Víriel let out a small sigh once he was out of earshot and entered as well.

"Friend of yours?" Holly asked, falling into step next to her.

She scoffed. "He still treats me like I'm a child."

"I wonder what that feels like." Holly took in their surroundings as Víriel led them farther into the city. Despite its lifeless appearance from the outside, the city was active on the inside. Rangers moved about, sharpening weapons or talking to one another in low voices. Most of them were men. She turned back to Víriel. "Is it because you're a woman?"

"No, thankfully, though a few of the other rangers do take that into account when they talk to me." The faintest hint of a grimace passed over Víriel's face. "No, Hal is part Dúnadan. He thinks just because he's fifty and looks twenty he can treat me like I'm five."

"Who are we going to speak to?" Thorin asked, moving to walk on Víriel's other side.

"Arador. He's one of the lieutenants," she replied. "He'll be able to get us the men we need."

They passed into a district with larger buildings—likely a place that had once housed nobles. Víriel stopped at one of the doors, which had a banner with the White Tree of Gondor hanging on it. "This way." She pushed it open and walked in.

Holly turned to say something to Bilbo, and realized with a start that he was nowhere to be found. She tugged on Thorin's sleeve, making him turn. "Where's Bilbo?"

His eyebrows drew together. "He's not with us?"

Víriel poked her head back out the door. "Something wrong?"

"Bilbo's missing."

Thorin turned back to Víriel. "Go speak with Arador. We'll search for him."

She frowned. "Are you sure?"

"We'll meet you here when we find him." He turned back to Holly. "Let's go." They started off down the street.

Holly felt anxiety clench in her gut. It wasn't like him, to fall behind without a word, and it worried her. Perhaps Bilbo had gotten distracted by something. Or perhaps someone had forcibly stopped him…

Holly put one hand on her sword and hurried on.

"We should split up," Thorin said after they had traversed a couple blocks and found nothing. "We'll be able to cover more ground that way."

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time we split up?"

"We're not in the wilds anymore. And we need to find him quickly." Thorin glanced at her, and she saw a familiar anxiety in his eyes. He too must have begun to suspect that the ring was influencing Bilbo.

"All right. I'll check by the river. You retrace our steps back to the gate."

"Good luck." Thorin nodded and they parted ways.

Holly sped up her pace, ignoring the curious looks thrown her way by some of the rangers. She sincerely hoped he had merely been sidetracked, and that this was all a misunderstanding.

Only a few minutes had passed before she spotted a short figure standing near the river. Once she confirmed that it was indeed Bilbo, she ran to him.

"What are you doing here? You had me worried," she said, coming to a halt next to him.

Bilbo didn't turn or respond, and Holly noticed he was staring across the river, at the darkened mountains that lay beyond.

"Do you feel that?" he asked after a minute.

"The cool breeze coming from the river? The light summer heat? We can enjoy the scenery later. We have to get back to the others. Come on." Holly took hold of his arm, and was surprised when he pulled it out of her grip.

" _Don't_."

Holly lowered her hand, blinking away her shock. "Are you all right? You...You're acting strange." Even as she spoke, Holly already knew it had something to do with the ring. Now that they were practically on Mordor's doorstep, it was possible that the proximity would have some influence over the ring's effect on him.

Bilbo lowered his head, fists clenched. He seemed to be fighting with himself, and Holly prayed it meant he was trying to resist the power of the ring.

"I'm here," she said. "I can help you. We're all here to help you."

"Help me?" He finally lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "Well, that's new, isn't it?"

Holly frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You...You all think you're doing the right thing. You think you're trying to help me. You think making decisions for me is going to fix this. And after all we've been through, you still have no idea."

"I don't understand."

"You've never tried to."

Holly twisted her sleeve between her fingers, concern and shame mingling in her gut. "I-If this is about me leaving, I'm s—"

"It's not. I already forgave you for that. But I see you doing the same things, over and over again. You claim to love me, but you only think of yourself."

Holly blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes. "That's not true."

"Yes, it is, but you've been too blind to see it! I've been grieving over the loss of our friends. I've been having nightmares this whole _damn_ time. I get scared for no reason, same as you and Thorin. And you've never once stopped to consider it. Tell me I'm wrong."

"I-I…" Bilbo was right, and that fact only deepened the wound his words had created. "I'm sorry. I've been thoughtless. I'll try to be better."

The look in his eyes didn't soften at all, and that was when Holly realized something was wrong. Bilbo might have been hurt, but she had never seen him lose his empathy for others. She had never heard him speak so harshly, either.

"Something else is bothering you," she said.

Bilbo shook his head. "It's nothing that would concern you." He began walking away, and when Holly grabbed his arm, he shrugged it off again.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Perhaps there was genuine pain behind his words, but that still didn't explain his sudden harshness.

It had to be the ring. It was feeding off his emotions and twisting them into something more malicious.

"It's the ring, Bilbo. You need to see that. It's taking everything you feel and...and making it worse. Perhaps we have all treated you unjustly, but that doesn't mean you have to close yourself off from us. All we want is to help you, even if we don't know how."

Holly sucked in a deep breath, searching his face. She wasn't certain he would be able to free himself from the ring's influence. And with their destination so close, they couldn't afford to take any chances.

"We can help you," she said. "You just have to let us. Perhaps...one of us should carry it for you. Just for a while." She took a step closer.

There was still doubt and detachment in his eyes, but he made no move to back away from her. "The ring is my burden to carry. It's _mine._ "

Holly barely heard him, her focus centered on her right hand, which was creeping closer to the pocket where she knew he kept the ring. "This is for your own good."

She made a grab for it. In a flash, Bilbo stepped back and drew his sword, pointing it at her chest.

The doubt in his gaze had vanished, replaced by barely-restrained rage that looked disturbingly unfamiliar on his face. "Stay away from me."

"Bilbo." Her hands hovered near the sword, trembling. "Stop. This isn't you."

He began to back away, something like regret replacing his rage, though he kept the sword level with her chest.

Holly turned and scanned the city, wishing Thorin would find them. Perhaps he would have more success in talking sense into Bilbo.

She turned back and cursed. Bilbo had sheathed his sword and was running for the bridge spanning the river. She ran after him as he began to cross it.

In the middle of the bridge, the rangers had erected a wooden barricade. Bilbo stopped and climbed onto the stone railing of the bridge, trying to edge his way around.

"Bilbo, stop!" Holly climbed onto the railing as well, placing one hand on the barricade to steady herself.

"Halt!" cried a new voice from the foot of the bridge.

They both turned to see a couple rangers staring up at them, probably wondering what two people that must have looked like children were doing trying to cross into orc territory.

The sound of crumbling stone caught her attention, and Holly turned back to see Bilbo lose his footing as the aging bricks of the railing crumbled.

"Bilbo!" As he fell, she managed to grab his wrist, and tightened her grip on the barricade. Holly screamed as her left shoulder exploded in pain. The piece of wood in her hand snapped, and they both plummeted into the river.

The shock of the cold water and the agony in her shoulder made her freeze, and for a moment she let the river sweep her downstream, motionless. Then the need to breathe forced her to move and she surfaced with a gasp. It felt as though her shoulder had been torn at the seams, like a ragdoll after years of use. It was all she could do to keep herself afloat with her good arm.

 _Bilbo._ He still didn't know how to swim. Holly swiveled her head, looking for him. Every movement of her injured arm made her vision swim with flashes of black and white stars.

"Bilbo!" She finally spotted him a few feet upstream from where she was. She struggled to reach him, trying to keep her left arm as close to her body as possible. When she was close enough, she ducked her head under his arm and wrapped her good arm around his waist. "Hold onto me," she said, struggling to keep her head above the water. "K-Kick your legs."

He seemed to have forgotten his animosity for the moment, and did as she asked.

The river carried them to a second bridge that had collapsed under the force of some siege weapon, or perhaps sabotage from the rangers themselves. A section of the bridge had fallen into the water at an angle. Holly moved them over to this section, and they climbed out of the water with heaving breaths.

She let out a low groan of pain and cradled her arm against her chest. The pain hadn't lessened at all, and she feared her shoulder was dislocated.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said.

Holly turned to forgive him, but found that he wasn't sitting next to her anymore. He was scaling the collapsed bridge, which would lead him to the eastern half of Osgiliath.

"Where are you going? You're going to get yourself killed!" She tried to follow him, but slipped on the wet stone and let out a whimper as the motion jostled her arm.

"I almost hurt you, Holly." Bilbo had reached the top of the bridge. "I can't let the rest of you risk yourselves for me. It's too dangerous. I have to go on alone."

"No, you don't, that's _bullshit_ and you know it!" Holly tried in vain to climb up after him. "Bilbo!"

He turned and disappeared from her sight.

"Stop!" The rough voice that had called out earlier sounded from behind, this time much closer. Two rangers were approaching in a small boat.

One of them climbed out and stepped onto the broken bridge. "Where is your companion going?"

"Mordor." Holly spat out a curse as her boots slipped against the stone once more. "I have to follow him. P-Please help me."

"We can't allow anyone to cross the river," the ranger said. "You'll have to come back with us."

"No. I'm going after him," Holly said. She finally found a steady foothold in the stone, but before she could make use of it the ranger grasped her left arm and pulled her away from the bridge.

She barely had time to scream in pain before a murky blackness swallowed her vision and forced her into unconsciousness.

 **I didn't realize how long this chapter was until it took me three fucking hours to edit. Anyway, I hope you guys like pain because this chapter :) had a lot. I have already planned the sequel in which I send Holly and Bilbo to group therapy because they certainly need it.**

 **Next chapter will feature the return of a character we haven't seen in a while, and then by the next chapter (or the chapter after that) all of the main characters should** **be in Mordor, and then we can get to the real fun.**

 **Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this fic! As always, leave a comment letting me know what you thought, or what you think is going to happen. I'd really appreciate it. Until next time!**


	22. Try Not to Die

**Chapter 22: Try Not to Die**

"What happened?"

"She and her companion were trying to cross the bridge. They fell into the river, and one of them managed to climb the broken bridge and slip into the eastern side."

"Have you sent someone to retrieve him _?_ "

Holly opened her eyes, blinking slowly to clear her vision. The gray sky above was mostly obscured by a long-haired figure kneeling next to her.

"No one is allowed into eastern Osgiliath," came the voice of the ranger who had grabbed her earlier. "The territory is controlled by orcs, and it is too dangerous to send people across the bridge."

"Thorin," Holly said, her voice coming out as little more than a whisper. Her shoulder still hurt, and now that her adrenaline had faded, it was difficult to speak around the pain. She was still soaking wet from the river, and she struggled to keep herself from shivering so as to avoid jostling the injured area.

He looked down at her, eyes filled with concern. "Are you hurt?"

"Doesn't matter. You have to help Bilbo. H-He crossed the river, decided to enter Mordor alone." When Thorin hesitated, she gave him a weak shove with her good arm. " _Go_. You have to find him. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can."

"I'll bring him back."

Holly closed her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself. But it must have been more than a moment, because the next thing she knew, she was lying on a cot in a small room.

Someone else was sitting next to her, and when Holly realized who it was, she wondered if she was hallucinating, or if the Valar were punishing her for being a terrible and incompetent friend.

Myra looked down at her sister, her expression somewhere between exasperated and concerned. "Not even a day here, and you've already made quite the mess."

Holly glared. "Lovely to see you, too."

With a jolt she remembered Bilbo, and the bridge. She tried to sit up, but Myra put a hand on her shoulder. Holly let out a cry of pain as her vision swam with white stars. She took several deep breaths to quell the nausea in her gut, and was embarrassed to feel tears spring into her eyes.

Myra immediately released her hold. "Are you hurt?"

"M-My shoulder." She swiped a hand across her eyes. "I think it's dislocated."

"I'll get a healer." She stood and left the room.

Holly swung her legs over the side of the cot and clenched her teeth against the pain. The sharp agony at the center of her shoulder was wrapped in a pulsing ache, probably caused by rangers who didn't know to keep their hands to themselves.

Moments later, Víriel and a man she assumed was the healer walked in.

"Myra said you had a dislocated shoulder," the healer said, kneeling down next to her. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

Holly shook her head, not trusting herself to speak in a steady voice.

"All right." He reached out to pull aside the collar of her shirt, but she flinched away.

"It's all right." Víriel sat down on her other side. "You can trust him." She exchanged a glance with the healer. "Actually, I'd better…" She turned to Holly. "Do you mind if I move your shirt? He needs to get a look at your shoulder."

Holly was quite capable of coming to that conclusion on her own, but she was in too much pain to say so out loud. "Fine."

Víriel undid a couple of the buttons on her shirt and gently pulled the collar over her shoulder. The healer examined the area and seemed to be pleased with what he saw.

"The swelling isn't too bad. Lie down and I'll set it for you."

Víriel placed one hand on her back. "I've definitely seen some worse bruises on you. I think you'll live."

Holly managed a half-smile as she lay back down.

The next thing she knew was a searing agony that radiated from the center of her shoulder and clawed through her arm and chest. When her senses cleared, Víriel was gripping her hand and the healer was saying something about slings and resting.

A chill passed through the air and Holly had to forcefully remind herself that she was in Osgiliath, not Ravenhill. Damon was not here, dead or alive.

Holly tried to sit up, but Víriel held one hand out. "You need your rest. You just passed out for a minute there."

"I do that sometimes." Holly watched the healer leave the room, then scowled as her sister passed him on the way in.

Víriel grinned when she caught sight of her friend and stood up. "Myra. How'd you get back here so early?"

"I assume you were all on foot," Myra said. "I returned from Dale on horseback." She glanced at Holly. "If we could have a moment alone…?"

"All right." She turned to Holly. "I'll be outside."

Myra took a seat on the cot as Víriel left. "The two of you have grown close."

"And I'm sure she'll tell you all about it," Holly said to the ceiling. "So don't waste your time interrogating me."

"I was merely stating an observation. I know well enough you don't respond to questions in the appropriate fashion."

"Your _observations_ always lead up to something, Myra. Get to the point so I can try and sleep off the headache you're giving me."

Myra gave one of her long sighs that meant she was about to do the exact opposite of getting to the point. "If you could, for one moment, try and act your age…"

"You should try that yourself." Holly shifted, trying to ease the ache in her shoulder. "Stop acting as if you're thirty years my senior. Is that why you were such a terrible sister? Because you were trying to fill in for mother?"

"You weren't a perfect sister, either. What role were you trying to fill?"

"The family psychopath."

"Hm." There was a strange trace of what might have been amusement in Myra's voice. "Perhaps you're onto something, then. We were both trying to fill roles for which we were ill-suited."

"Did you just agree with me? You really have changed."

"I believe it may be time to put this feud behind us. I don't expect that will change much for the moment, but if you're willing, I'd like to come to an agreement."

If she wasn't injured, Holly would have crossed her arms. "And I assume you've already drawn up a contract for it."

"Not this time." Myra straightened her back, a telltale sign that she was running short on patience. "I'll trust you to uphold your end of this bargain, if you trust me to uphold mine. I will make an effort to cease my involvement in your life, on one condition."

"Go on." Holly was used to her sister's attempts to negotiate for more control in their relationship. Now that they weren't living with one another, she didn't care much for it.

"Do try not to die."

She finally lifted her eyes to Myra's face. Her sister's gaze was fixed on the scar on Holly's left hand. "That's a rather demanding task, you know."

"I'm not sure if you mean that ironically." Myra moved her gaze back to her face. "Which is precisely what worries me. Perhaps you don't trust me to keep you safe, but I know you trust Víriel. All I ask is that you find someone, whether it be her or one of your...shorter friends, who you can trust to keep you safe. Who will motivate you to keep _yourself_ safe."

Holly pursed her lips, searching for a catch in her sister's request. When she found none, she realized the only thing left was to consider that perhaps Myra was being genuine—outlandish as it sounded.

"I'll consider your...deal. But I won't make any promises until I know all of my friends are safe."

Myra stared at her, her face unreadable. Before she could speak, Víriel knocked and opened the door.

"Fin wants to see you. Says it's important."

"Of course." She stood and made for the door, pausing at the entrance. "See to it that my sister gets some rest." She walked out.

Holly sat up and locked eyes with Víriel. "We're going after Bilbo and Thorin, right?"

"Yes, of course," she said, striding across the room. "But if I think you need to stop and rest, you do it. No complaints or protests. I don't want you dying on me while we're out there."

"All right." Holly tried to maneuver her arm into a more comfortable position. "I don't plan on dying, anyway."

Myra had requested that she find someone to ensure her safety. She couldn't have known that Holly had already done that. During that night near the Dead Marshes, she and Víriel had come across an unspoken agreement. When the ranger was at her side, Holly knew she was safe.

"Can we leave, now?"

"How's your shoulder feel?"

"It hurts. But I'll be walking with my legs, not my arms."

"We should still put it in a sling. If it doesn't heal properly, you'll regret it."

Holly swung her legs over the side of the cot. "So, once we're done with all the medical bullshit, we can leave, yes?"

"Yes. I've got to figure out a way to get us across the river, though. I'm not cleared to cross the bridge, and the the Captain will have my head if he finds out I'm heading into Mordor alone."

Holly frowned. "Thank you for doing this. I-I didn't realize you could get into trouble."

Víriel smiled. "You're welcome. And the three of you are good people. Helping you all is worth the risk."

"Thank you." She realized she'd already said that. "For...you know. Everything."

As she followed her out the door, Holly found herself wondering at the good in other people. She'd seen the other side of it, the evil and greed that infected people and twisted them into villains. But it was people like Víriel, and Bilbo, and Thorin, who gave her reason not to be afraid, but to be happy and hopeful.

* * *

Minas Morgul. Holly looked at the fortress and shivered.

As they neared Mordor, the tension in the air had thickened, to the point where it felt as though pure dread had draped itself on her shoulders. The fortress seemed to be a nexus for this dark energy, with its sinister pale-green spires and shadowed windows. Just looking at it made anxiety clench at her gut.

"Get down," Víriel hissed, and they crouched behind a cluster of rocks.

"More orcs?" Holly asked.

She nodded, her eyes trained on the small group as they patrolled the area. "There's going to be more of them, the closer we get to the pass."

Holly sighed and tugged at the fabric of her trousers. They were still damp from where they had forded the river a few hours earlier. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Well, I won't know until we get close enough for me to scope out the area."

"I could try and create a shroud. That might give us the cover we need." She wasn't sure how effective her magic would be with one of her arms in a sling, but at the moment they could use every advantage they could get.

"Enough to get us past two orc-infested fortresses?"

"Possibly."

"All right." Víriel gestured with one hand for her to stand up. "They're gone. Let's move."

They crept into the shadow of the mountain range towering above them. From there, they made it to a group of boulders that gave them a clearer view of Minas Morgul. Holly could see three groups of orcs—two at either wall of the pass, and another on the bridge that spanned the chasm in front of the fortress.

"That's not too bad," Holly said. "We could sneak past the two on the right, if I'm able to cast a strong enough spell to blind them."

"Then you're going to have to start walking more quietly," Víriel said. "No offense, but walking with you is like trying to lead a mûmak through a pile of dead leaves."

Holly scowled. "I think you may be exaggerating."

"You have the wrong type of shoes for this, for starters. But that can't be helped." She shifted so she could demonstrate with one foot. "Put your weight on your heels, then place the rest of your foot down. And try to step on solid stone—it'll make less noise than loose rocks."

"All right." Holly cast a nervous glance in the direction of the orcs. "Are you ready?"

Víriel nodded. "Cast the spell. When I give the signal, follow me. And stay close."

She took a deep breath to center herself, then focused on the area near the right wall of the pass. " _Lumёa dae faun forvenos_."

Inky blackness twisted into existence, shrouding the area in complete darkness. The orcs caught in the spell let out shouts of surprise, and their comrades turned toward the sound.

"Now!" Víriel stood and sprinted for the shroud. Holly followed her, struggling to keep up with her injured arm.

They reached it at the same time as the other orcs. Though there was no need, Holly found herself holding her breath as she entered the darkness.

"Víriel." She reached out to touch the ranger and reassure herself, but her fingers met empty air. Holly breathed out a curse, terror stilling her limbs. She knew the ranger had to be close by, but she didn't know where, exactly. She didn't know where the orcs were, either.

 _This was a terrible idea._

But it wouldn't do any good to stand there, so Holly pressed onwards, praying she would make it through unscathed. She remembered what Víriel had told her, and tried to place her feet carefully as she walked.

"Find 'em yet?" A voice growled so close to her ear that Holly had to clasp one shaking hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud.

"Nothing!" A voice responded from farther away.

"Keep searching. Lug and Radnag are keeping watch outside the shroud. They'll give a shout if they try to escape."

She hurried onwards. She had about thirty seconds left before the spell began to dissipate. If she didn't find cover before then, she would be dead.

Her footsteps seemed far too loud on the dusty ground. Certainly everyone in the pass could hear the shuffling of her boots. Holly tried to quiet her movements, and was so focused on being stealthy that she didn't register the footsteps of another until its arm banged against her injured shoulder.

A gasp of pain escaped her lips. She stumbled away from whoever had bumped into her, but she wasn't quite fast enough. A grip of iron closed around her arm, eliciting another pained noise.

The orc pulled her close and chuckled, its putrid breath washing over her face. "Where do you think you're going?"

Holly struggled, clenching her teeth against the pain in her arm. The shroud was dissipating, and she could see the vague shape of an orc in front of her.

 _Stay calm. Conserve your energy._ She stopped struggling and took a deep breath.

"Oi! I got one! She's r—"

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven_."

Lightning flashed. The orc's hand was ripped from her arm. Through the clearing shroud, Holly saw it land on its back, a wisp of smoke rising from its chest.

The creak of a bowstring made her turn. Víriel was standing a few feet away, an arrow nocked and aimed at an approaching orc. She glanced at Holly, and her eyes widened.

"Behind you!"

A sudden force tackled Holly from behind, grabbing her by the fronts of her shoulders and holding her immobile. She stiffened as the blade of a dagger appeared at her throat.

"Drop your weapons, ranger," came a raspy voice next to her ear. "Or I'll cut her pretty little throat open."

Víriel faltered, her grip on her bow white-knuckled. Slowly, she began to lower it.

" _Run_ ," Holly mouthed at her. One of them had to continue, to save Bilbo, and she hoped the ranger understood that.

It seemed Víriel had other ideas. She loosened the tension on her bow, glaring daggers at the orc. Before she could do anything else, another orc came up behind her and kicked her hard in the back of her knee, sending her to the ground. The orc followed up with another kick to Víriel's ribs, making her groan and stagger.

"No, stop," Holly pleaded, squirming against the orc's grip. In response, the knife at her throat pressed against her skin hard enough to sting. She forced herself to calm down again. If she could kill the orc holding her… " _Naur mîwe—"_

The hand holding her shoulders clapped over her mouth, cutting off the incantation. "Not again, you don't." The dagger left her throat, and Holly felt the hilt slam against her head.

She fell to the ground, and tasted dust on her tongue. A crackling blackness descended on her vision, and the last thing she heard was Víriel's cry of pain.

 **Sorry if the chapters are kind of short. I'm trying to reach** **thirty chapters, so after this is done I'll probably** **go back and try to flesh it all out.**

 **Things are kind of bad now for the gang, but...next chapter we will meet one of my favorite non-canon-but-still-kind-of-canon characters. You'll see. He's a cool dude. ;)**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought. I'd really appreciate it.**


	23. The Hunt

**I don't own Torvin, his legendary accent, or caragors. All three belong to Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor.**

 **Quick note about the caragors: if wargs are the ME equivalent of wolves, then caragors are akin to lions. Or you can just Google them.**

 **Chapter 23: The Hunt**

Thorin was lost.

When he had learned that Bilbo had gone to Mordor by himself, he had been swept up in panic and fear. It was unlike his friend to charge into danger without a second thought. Though Bilbo had been acting strangely lately, and the thought that he could have prevented this with a little more foresight tore into his heart. Once he had gathered himself, his thoughts had been centered on one goal: to find Bilbo, and ensure his safety. It was a simple task, yet he was terrified that he would fail.

Which made his current dilemma all the more frustrating—Thorin was lost.

He did not know, physically, how to proceed. He stood at the foot of the mountains encircling Mordor, searching for a gap or a pass through which he might cross. It would be folly to try the pass of Cirith Ungol—there was no chance that he would make it through alive. The place was heavily guarded, and he did not have a magical ring or mage's powers to aid him.

Thorin turned north. Dangerous as it was, the pass was his only way through. The mountains were sheer rock, and would be impossible to climb. As far as he knew, there were no tunnels under the mountains, either.

He needed to act quickly. The longer he tarried, searching for a way in, the longer Bilbo would be putting himself at risk.

The rough slide of gravel made Thorin turn. A bulky figure had slid down the side of the cliff, and stood in a crouch a few feet away. Upon getting a better look, he drew his sword

The beast before him resembled a warg, but its skin was tough and leathery, almost armor-like, with spines of the same material on the back of its neck. Two vicious-looking fangs, at least seven inches long, protruded from its upper jaw.

Thorin knew well enough the pain of a warg's bite, and was not planning on receiving one from this creature. He held his ground as the monster growled and lunged. It was much faster than a warg, but Thorin managed to dodge to the side just in time. He ran his sword against the creature's flank as it passed. The blade bit into the tough flesh, but not deep enough to wound the beast.

He barely had time to raise his sword before it had turned and was upon him again. This time, it came close enough for one of its paws to clip his shoulder before he could move out of the way.

Thorin staggered. The fight had only lasted a few seconds and he knew the beast was too fast and strong for him to kill—at least, not without getting injured first.

When the creature attacked a third time, he swung his blade horizontally, aiming for the softer flesh of its mouth. But its teeth locked around his blade. The beast jerked its head, knocking Thorin backwards. As soon as his weapon left his grip, he knew it was over.

"Heads up!"

A stocky figure dropped down onto the the beast—a flash of steel, a spray of black blood—and it dropped to the ground, letting out one more growl before lying still.

Thorin pushed himself to his feet, measuring the distance between himself, his sword, and the newcomer, but whoever it was seemed to have more interest in the downed monster.

Thorin noted with surprise that the newcomer was a dwarf. He retrieved his sword and watched him kneel down to inspect the body. Dark blood pooled under a knife wound in the creature's soft underbelly.

The dwarf glanced at him. "Well, that was a close one. I'm assuming you've never fought a caragor before."

"You're familiar with these creatures?"

"Suppose you could say that." The dwarf scoffed, apparently dissatisfied with what he saw, and stood up. "The name's Torvin. Monster hunter."

A dwarf—from the Orocarni, judging by his accent—hunting monsters in Mordor. Thorin had seen few stranger combinations in his life. But if Torvin was familiar with the area, then perhaps he could help him.

He sheathed his sword. "I need to get into Mordor."

"Well, that's not something you hear everyday." Torvin tucked his thumbs into his belt. "Thinkin' about getting in on the monster hunting business?"

"I'm looking for someone. He—"

"Looking for their body, you mean? 'Cause that's all you're likely to find if your friend's gone off to Mordor."

"I'm fully aware of the danger, which is why I need to find a way in as soon as possible."

"Ah, don't get your beard all in a twist. Seems we're in the same boat here…" He craned his head back to look at the cliff from which he'd jumped down. "Since I hopped down to save your sorry arse."

"Do you know a way in, or not?"

"Well, it appears our only option is to go the long way around, and enter from the west. Unless you've a way to climb up sheer cliffs." He glanced back down at the caragor.

Thorin shook his head and turned away. Clearly Torvin did not understand the gravity of his situation. Each moment he spent talking in circles with the dwarf was a moment wasted.

"Now, hold on a just a second. Perhaps you or I couldn't scale our way up a mountain, but I've seen a caragor climb fifty feet straight up, no problem."

"How does that help us?"

"We ride 'em, obviously."

Thorin was tempted to just walk away. "All right, one: the caragor is dead, and we cannot possibly ride it in that condition. Two: that is an _insane_ idea."

Torvin crossed his arms, undeterred. "One: caragors hunt in packs, so a couple more should be showing up in a few minutes. And two: you're welcome to just walk away. Though I'd advise doing so quickly, unless you want to find out how fast a caragor can run when they're chasing their prey."

Walking away was not an option, not when Bilbo's life was in danger. He could not lose sight of that. If this was the risk he would have to take to find him, then he would have to put his own misgivings aside. After all, the idea wasn't entirely implausible—he had ridden goats before that could scale sheer cliffs.

"All right. Let's say we're able to ride these caragors. How would we mount them without being killed first?"

"Now that's the fun part." Torvin clapped his hands together. "First rule of the hunt: there are no rules. It's all about guts, and instinct! Caragors may be vicious bastards, but they're beasts all the same. Show 'em who's boss, and they'll listen to you well enough."

"...Do you have anything more specific than that?"

They both looked up at the sound of sliding gravel. Two more caragors were making their way down the cliff.

"Better yet, I'll show you." He gestured to Thorin's sword. "Put that thing away. It's only going to get in the way."

"I'd rather it get in the way if it's between myself and a caragor's teeth," Thorin muttered, but sheathed it anyway. He backed up several steps.

"Now, watch closely, because I'm only going to do this once." Torvin shook out his arms and took a few steps backwards. His posture was loose and relaxed. Seeing this, and the number of scars on the dwarf's arms and torso, Thorin wondered if he truly had reason to doubt the dwarf.

One of the caragors took a flying leap off the cliff, jaws open and aimed for Torvin's head. At the last second, the dwarf ducked and rolled out of the way. The caragor spun, agile as a cat, and lunged again. This time, with practiced ease, Torvin took hold of one of the spines and swung himself onto the creature's back.

Thorin doubted he could perform such a maneuver himself without practicing first. Of course, there was no time for that—the second caragor was already advancing on him.

"Torvin," he said, fighting the urge to reach for his sword. "How do I—"

"Ask it nicely!" he shouted from where he was trying to prevent his caragor from bucking him off.

Thorin swore in Khuzdul as the caragor growled and lunged. Instinct won over and he drew his sword. This time, he tried a different tactic, stepping to the side and bringing the pommel down on the top of the beast's head.

Fortunately, this was enough to stun the beast for a moment, and before Thorin could convince himself not to, he grabbed one of the spines on its neck and swung himself onto the caragor's back.

No sooner had he managed this than the beast leapt up and tried to dislodge him. Thorin held on with both hands and prayed that he would be able to hold on.

A couple panicked minutes later, the beast finally settled down enough for him to get his bearings.

"Not bad." Torvin had moved his now-docile caragor closer. "Took me about the same time to tame my first one. You might be a natural at this."

Thorin pushed his hair out of his face. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his temples. "Well, I don't plan on doing this again."

"Ah, well. The hunt's not for everyone." Torvin turned his mount towards the cliff. "We've wasted enough time here. You ready to ride?"

The caragor was easy enough to steer, given a nudge of the spines on the back of its neck. At Thorin's urging, it leapt at the cliff and began climbing. Sharp claws meant for rending flesh dug easily into the rock wall.

In less than a minute, they had cleared the height, and the two dwarves paused at the summit. From there, they had a clear view of the ash-strewn, barren land of Mordor.

"Y'know, I don't believe I ever caught your name," Torvin said.

"I never gave it."

"Ah, a dwarf of mystery." He grinned again. "I can respect that."

Torvin had an easygoing demeanor about him similar to Bofur. He seemed trustworthy enough, but Thorin was reluctant to give him his name. He couldn't risk the dwarf making a connection between him and the currently absent king of Erebor.

"Any idea where your friend might have gone?"

Holly had told him that Bilbo had entered Mordor alone. If he had managed to find a way inside, then there was only one place he could have gone.

"The mountain." Thorin pointed at the hulking figure in the distance. Black smoke plumed from a peak that glowed orange with liquid fire.

"Mount Doom? You sure your friend doesn't have a death wish?"

The very thought made him cold, despite the muggy heat that covered Mordor like a shroud. There was no more time to waste.

"Let's go."

The two dwarves spurred their beasts onward, into the land of shadows.

* * *

Léonere was shaking with exhaustion, a sheen a sweat covering the back of his neck, his face, his chest.

"You're getting close," Annatar said, pacing in a circle around the perimeter of the tower. "At this rate, it should take you but another fifty years or so."

He shook his head and raked the back of his hand across his forehead. They had made a deal of sorts—Léonere would fulfill their original goal, but he would not use dark magic to accomplish it. This meant he had to work twice as hard to siphon clean magical energy from the area.

It was similar to the time Alistair had taught him once how to filter dirty water using a rag, some rocks, and a glass bottle. The process had been painstakingly slow, with the clean water coming out in slow drops. But it had been worth it in the end, and hopefully what he was doing now would pay off as well.

Annatar had tasked him with collecting energy and infusing it into the magic circle carved into the floor of the tower. Once it was fully charged, they could begin the real work.

"You're making it harder than it has to be."

"I know that," Léonere said. "And for good reason. I respect your cause, but I won't lose my mind for it."

" _Our_ cause. And I appreciate all that you are doing. I never could have come this far without you."

Léonere picked up his waterskin and drank the last mouthful of water. It tasted stale, like ash. "Why did you never decide to become a mage?"

Annatar let out a small chuckle to himself.

"Something funny?"

There was laughter in his voice as he said, "I won't distract you from your work. Continue."

Léonere frowned to himself. Something about Annatar's demeanor unnerved him—the man was far to cheerful considering their surroundings, for one. But he hadn't the time or the energy to focus on that. He closed his eyes and reached out once more to the nexus of energy surrounding the tower.

 **Another short chapter. I'm really trying to stretch things out so I can** **reach a nice round 30 again (I know, I have problems) But hopefully the quality of the chapters counts more than the length. I'll go back later and try to fill some of these in with extra scenes.**

 **I hope the stuff that went down in this wasn't too weird for you guys :) Torvin was not in my original outline but after seeing him in the game I liked his character too much not to include a cameo. I highly recommend looking up one of his cutscenes on Youtube, his accent is truly legendary.**

 **Next chapter will focus back on the girls, and then in the one after that we'll finally see what's going on with poor Bilbo (who's been super fucking absent for like most of this fic, I apologize for that)**

 **Thank you once again to everyone who has read this story, and I sincerely hope you're enjoying it. Extra thanks to everyone who comments, favorites, etc. It helps me out a lot.**


	24. Damsel in Distress

**(I don't own graugs.)**

 **Chapter 24: Damsel in Distress**

Holly ached. She was lying on her side, and her weight was pressing on her injured shoulder, creating a stabbing pain that radiated down the length of her arm. The back of her head was throbbing. She tried to curse, but something that tasted of sweat and dirt obstructed her mouth, only allowing her to grunt in discomfort.

Wherever she was, it was too dark to see more than a few scattered beams of reddish light shining through gaps in the walls and ceiling of what appeared to be a confined space. The whole room jostled, and Holly groaned again as her shoulder gave a nasty twinge.

She tried to sit up, and found that her hands were bound. Her legs, too, were tied together.

Which meant she had no way to use her magic. She couldn't run, either.

Holly let out a whimper and managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position. Her breathing sped up as she struggled against her bonds. The orcs must have taken her sword.

She had no means of getting free. If the orcs came to get her—rather, _when_ they did, she would be helpless to prevent them from hurting her.

Another groan sounded from within the room, and Holly realized she wasn't alone. She tried to move away but only succeeded in almost falling over as her limited movement threw her off balance. So she stayed still, trembling, and watched the figure rise from the floor.

"Damn...my head…"

Víriel was in there with her. Thankfully it wasn't an enemy. But they could hurt her too, could make her watch, could make it last for hours—

She couldn't breathe. She was taking in air, but none of it seemed to quite reach the bottom of her lungs.

"Holly? Are you all right?"

Instead of a confirmation, a small sob escaped. Holly knew she needed to ground herself, to control her breathing, but that was all far away and unreal and it was far too cold for a locked room in the middle of Mordor.

"It's all right. Let me just…" There was a scraping noise. "Ah, dammit."

She was shaking—either that, or she was shivering from the cold. If Damon was here, if he found her like this…

Víriel's fingernails scraped against Holly's cheek as she pulled the gag from her mouth. "There you are. Just breathe. You're all right."

Holly gasped for air, and a small amount of clarity entered her mind. She spat to get rid of the awful taste in her mouth and took a few deep, shuddering breaths.

"That's right. Breathe out slowly."

Víriel's steady voice calmed her, and after a few moments, Holly had mastered herself enough to speak. "Where a-are we?"

"A wagon. That's all I know. I overheard one of them say they were taking us to the slavers in Udûn."

Holly cursed, then spat again. "That's at least a week's worth of travel."

"Which gives us plenty of time to escape." She tested her bonds, then sighed in frustration. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Right. Then let's find a way out of here." Víriel dragged herself over to the double doors at one end of the wagon, hissing through her teeth as she did so. She kicked at the gap between the doors, and was rewarded with the jingle of metal on the other side. "They must have chained the doors shut. Can't tell if they used a lock, though."

As she moved, a beam of light passed over her, and Holly caught sight of numerous bruises and scrapes marring her face. "How badly did they hurt you?"

"Oh, they only kicked me around a bit after they knocked you out. Orcs aren't overly fond of rangers, you know." Her tone was conversational, but Holly could detect the faintest tremor in her voice.

"I'll kill them," she said, and meant it. "We get out of here, and we find Bilbo and Thorin."

"Sounds like a brilliant plan. Where do we start?"

Holly pushed herself into a kneeling position and began feeling along the floor and walls. She'd been in worse situations. She could find a way out of this one.

After a minute, she found what she was searching for. One of the floorboards was slightly splintered at one edge. She dragged her feet next to it and undid the laces of one boot.

Víriel crawled over and sat next to her. "What are you doing?"

"Making a weapon." Holly wedged the lace into the gap and began sawing it back and forth. "We stab one of the orcs with this, catch them off guard, and kill the rest."

"And then we hop our way to freedom?"

"I haven't gotten to that part yet. Perhaps _you_ could think of a way to untie our bonds instead of just sitting there, and I'll make you something nice and sharp to stab an orc with."

"All right, then." Víriel's hands went to the rope around her ankles. "Do you want me to start calling you Captain?"

"Why would I want that?"

"Because you're being rather bossy right now."

"If it means you'll help me find a way out of here, then you may call me whatever you like."

"But of course, milady."

Holly laughed, surprising herself. This was neither the time nor the place to be expressing merriment of any kind. But that didn't seem to matter when she was with Víriel.

"Could you use your magic to untie us?"

"And how would I do that?"

"Well, it would be nice if you had some sort of knot-untying spell on hand…"

Holly opened her mouth explain for what felt like the hundredth time that magic _didn't work like that_ , then paused. "You're...joking?"

"Yes. Partially. I mean, I've seen you incinerate orcs and create night in the middle of day. Surely there's something you could do to cut these ropes."

"I could use a spell to cut the ropes, but it might end up hurting you as well. I haven't advanced far enough to use more precise magic." She checked her progress with the floorboard and sighed. Her arms were starting to ache, and she'd barely made a dent. "Dammit. This is going to take ages."

"I'll take over." Víriel moved closer. "Get some rest. That movement can't be good for your shoulder."

"I feel fine." Holly blushed as their hips pressed together, then realized she was supposed to move over and maneuvered herself so she was leaning against the wall of the wagon. She was glad for the dark, as it obscured any evidence on her face of feelings that one should _definitely_ not be experiencing in the middle of being kidnapped by orcs.

"Of course you do. But I'm stronger than you, and this might go faster if I do it. No offense."

Holly wondered what the muscles in her arms looked like. The sleeves of her tunic were loose, so it wasn't easy to tell, but she imagined they would be rather well-defined. She imagined the way they would move when she drew back the string of her bow, or lifted herself onto the branch of a tree—

 _Oh, Eru._ She was being absolutely ridiculous.

"Something wrong?" Víriel asked.

Holly hadn't realized that she'd spoken aloud. "I'm just scared. And worried. And anxious. And everything else that goes along with having your friends disappear and being captured by the most bloodthirsty creatures known to man."

She'd meant it as an excuse, but even as she said the words she knew they were true. It was all well and good to make jokes and come up with escape plans, but in the end it was merely a distraction from the sea of fear that seemed to have settled at her core.

Was that all her life would be? Making the precarious leap from distraction to distraction, knowing at any moment she could spiral into another episode of terror and hallucinations? Holly knew she didn't have high standards when it came to her own wellbeing, but a life full of fear wasn't one worth living.

The scrape of Víriel's boot lace against the wood stopped. Holly felt the ranger's hands brush against her knees, then move upwards to lace their fingers together. "You said it yourself. We're getting out of here. And we're going to find Thorin and Bilbo."

Holly brushed the pad of her thumb over the calluses on Víriel's palm. The wagon jolted again, and for a second she could see her eyes, fierce and green, staring into her own. "We will." That would have to be good enough for now.

She had to focus on the fears of the present. Once that was over and done with, and her friends were safe, she could worry about the fears of her future.

* * *

By the time the orcs opened the back of the wagon, Holly's body ached all over from sitting in one position for so long. She yearned to stretch out her limbs, but with her bonds and the cramped quarters, all she could do was be still and wait.

Red-orange light flooded the small area, and Holly blinked against the brightness of it after spending so long in the dark. From where she was leaning against the wall, she could count three orcs standing outside, though there were probably more out of sight.

The closest one climbed into the wagon, and Holly clenched her fists as her heart began to race. She hadn't forgotten the last time she'd been at the mercy of an orc. She glanced over to where Víriel was lying with her back to the door. The fragment of wood was hidden in the ranger's tunic, and Holly prayed she would be able to use it effectively. They would only have one chance to escape.

She turned her attention back to the orc. "You're going to pay for what you did to my friend." Her voice trembled as she spoke. "You didn't actually think you'd get away with harming a ranger, did you?"

There were two factors here on which they could rely: the sadistic nature of orcs, and their hatred of rangers. Víriel had volunteered to take another beating for the sake of their escape. Holly detested the idea, but it was the only reliable way to get the orc close enough for her to strike.

However, it seemed she'd made a slight miscalculation—the orc turned its beady gaze to Holly and walked over until its feet were inches from her bound ones. She couldn't resist flinching away as it reached down. Thick fingers clasped around her throat and lifted her up until they were at eye level.

The orc spoke in a raspy voice, its jagged lips lifting in a sneer. "And what do you think you're going to do about it?"

Holly gasped as the hand around her neck tightened its grip. Her feet weren't even touching the floor. The orc watched her almost eagerly as she choked and gasped for air that could not enter her lungs.

 _It's going to kill me. I'm going to die here._ Through her rapidly blurring vision, Holly could see Víriel's still form on the floor of the wagon.

"H-Help…" The word came out as little more than a whisper. A couple tears slipped down her cheeks, and the world went dark.

The jolt of her knees hitting the floor of the wagon brought her back to reality. She bent double over her bound hands and coughed as air flooded back into her chest.

A ragged curse escaped her lips as the orc's footsteps receded, moving over to the other side of the wagon. Víriel mumbled something she couldn't catch due to the ringing in her ears. Evidently the orc didn't hear either, because it bent down with a low growl and asked her to repeat it.

No sooner had its fingers closed around her hair and jerked her head towards it than her body twisted with catlike speed. The makeshift dagger plunged into the side of its neck, and withdrew covered in tar-black blood. The orc gurgled and flailed as Víriel stabbed again at its windpipe.

Despite her still-ragged breathing, Holly pushed herself into action and lunged towards the orc, grabbing the knife from its belt and holding it out. "Give me your hands," she said, though her voice was raspy and barely-audible.

Víriel seemed to understand anyway, and held out her wrists. Holly sliced through her bonds with shaking hands, then did the same for her feet.

At this point, the other orcs had noticed the death of their comrade. "Oi! The ranger's free!" one of them shouted.

"I'm going to borrow this for a minute." Víriel slipped the knife from her hand and kicked the ropes from her ankles. Four orcs had gathered by the wagon now, each armed with a crude weapon.

Víriel stood, knife in hand, and attacked.

Holly had never gotten to clearly see her in close combat before. She didn't have the grace of an elf, but there was a good deal more finesse to her movements than what one would expect from a backstreet brawl. Altogether, Holly found herself quite distracted.

One of the orcs stabbed forward with its sword as Víriel jumped down from the wagon. She sidestepped the blow, then moved back as another orc's axe sliced into its comrade's arm. Her dagger went straight into the neck of the first orc, and in the next moment she leapt back as another orc took a swing at her with its club.

Holly forced herself to refocus and turned back to the dead orc on the wagon floor. It had no more knives on its person, but she did find a machete, half trapped under its body. She struggled to pull it loose, bracing her feet against the orc's body and tugging with both hands.

After a minute, it came out from under the body, nearly slicing her leg in the process. She tried to position it on the floor in such a way that it would stay put while she cut her hands free.

The wagon rocked as someone entered it and Holly looked up, startled.

"Reinforcements are coming," Víriel said, kneeling down next to her. "We have to make a run for it."

"Cut me loose," Holly rasped, then cleared her throat.

"No time." Víriel slipped the knife into her belt. "I'm going to have to carry you."

She was asking for permission, Holly realized, and since there was no time to argue, she nodded and dropped the machete. Víriel scooped her up and threw her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Holly mumbled a curse as the world lurched upside down. She lifted her head, and from her slightly more elevated position, she could see a group of about twenty orcs descending a slope and advancing on them.

Víriel jumped down from the wagon, stabbing at an orc who happened to get to close, then turned and ran from the approaching group.

The next few minutes were a blur, since all Holly could see was the reddish-brown stone beneath her head, all she could hear was the angry shouts of orcs, and her head was beginning to hurt from the awkward position.

"Holly, you have to slow them down," Víriel panted. "I can't outrun them."

"Right." She focused on the bouncing earth below, praying she would be able to complete the spell. " _Cae perien rammas eria."_ Nothing happened. "Dammit."

"Sooner rather than later would be nice!"

Holly closed her eyes, letting the dull ache in her head fade into the background. She flexed her fingers, and with a deep breath, repeated the incantation.

" _Cae perien rammas eria._ "

The ground rumbled as a wall of earth about twenty feet wide erupted into existence. The foremost orcs in the group slammed into it. They would be able to go around, of course, but it would buy them some time.

"Good. We're almost there. The terrain isn't so flat here, I should be able to lose them in the— _shit!_ "

Holly yelped as the world tilted to the side and Víriel's grip on her waist slipped. The earth spun around her rapidly as she tumbled down a steep slope. She landed on her stomach with a grunt, and Víriel landed beside her.

"Damn." She spat out a mouthful of dirt and squirmed, trying to relieve the pressure of her body on top of her arms. "You _are_ clumsy."

"Oh, shut up." Víriel helped her sit up and cut the ropes around her wrists. "Didn't realize they had pits and caves in Mordor. One of them snuck up on me. And you weren't helping my balance—you may be small, but you're no sack of feathers."

Holly glanced around. They had landed in a decent-sized cavern, about thirty feet high and just as wide. The gap through which they had fallen was a good twenty feet or so above them, and the sheer cave walls meant they would have no hope of climbing back up.

Not that they would want to—even as Víriel cut the bonds on her legs, a pair of orcs stepped into sight. Holly pushed herself up with stiff legs, preparing another spell, but the orcs didn't seem interested in giving chase.

"They fell into one of the pits," one of them called to another that they couldn't see.

"Leave 'em. The graug'll get to 'em soon enough," replied another voice from farther away.

Holly and Víriel stood in breathless silence as the orcs turned and left. Once they were out of sight, Holly turned and surveyed the cavern again. Whatever manner of beast the orcs had mentioned, it wasn't home at the moment.

She reached up and tugged on Víriel's wrist. "Let's get out of here. We've wasted enough time already."

They made it halfway across the cavern without incident. The area was eerily silent, and their footsteps echoed far louder than they should have. The walls were dry, and made of reddish rock, with no moss or dripping water to give any appearance of life to the place. Far away, a low rumble sounded.

"If anything, the orcs should have carried us closer to where we want to go," Víriel said. "I think we escaped before they could turn northwest to Udûn." She coughed against the sudden cloud of dust that rose from the ground. "I couldn't see much when I was running for my life, but—" She stumbled and looked down. "What the—?"

Holly looked down as well and let out a horrified gasp. The creature that had its fingers wrapped around Víriel's leg was unlike anything she'd seen before. It had a body similar to a goblin, but it had glowing eyes on the side of its head and its lips were pulled back to show a row of jagged, slimy teeth.

Víriel's knife was out in a flash. She cut the throat of the creature and it fell in a heap at her feet, dark blood pouring from its convulsing throat.

She wiped the blade on her trousers. "Damn thing almost tripped me."

Holly whipped around at the all-too-familiar sound of dislodged dirt. "There's more." Half a dozen of the creatures were crawling from the ground like oversized, four-limbed worms. She sucked in a sharp breath as she recalled the image of rotting corpses pushing and clawing their way to the surface—their bony fingers reaching for her throat, their blank eye sockets staring into nothing…

She took a step back, her thoughts swirling. Had Bilbo used the ring again, and inadvertently summoned the creatures? Was he close by? What on earth were these things supposed to be?

Víriel grabbed her good shoulder and pushed her behind her. "Stay back. I'll take care of them."

More monsters were emerging from all directions. Holly turned so she and the ranger were back to back. "If you wanted a damsel in distress, you should have brought a woman who _doesn't_ know how to use magic."

Víriel slashed, slitting the throat of one of the creatures and stabbing another in the same motion. "Ah, right. I keep forgetting you're never technically unarmed."

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven."_ Three of the creatures flew backwards, singed by lightning. "Unarmed? You're one to talk. I'd like to see what you're going to do with that shoddy kitchen knife."

"Well, I've already felled five of the beasts. How many have you?"

Before Holly could respond, Víriel cried out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ranger fall, one of the creatures on top of her and clawing at her face.

"No!" Holly froze as her vision shifted. For a moment, it was Thorin at her feet, goblins swarming around him, his blood already pooling onto the ground. Then she came to her senses and lunged for the monster attacking Víriel.

She grabbed it by the neck and pulled the creature backwards. It jerked forward, jaws still snapping and bloodthirsty, and she reached up with one hand and pulled the creature's head to the side. She felt bone snap between her hand, and the creature went limp in her grip.

One of the creatures leapt onto her back, its claws raking against her skin. She fell to her knees, but its weight slid off her a moment later as Víriel jabbed her knife into its throat.

Holly reached over and grabbed her arm with both hands. "Stay close to me."

Víriel gripped her arms back. "What are you—"

" _Naur perien cornen osa_." The air surrounding them ignited, knocking back a couple of the creatures mid-leap. When the glare of the flames died down, the group of monsters lay still, the ones closest to the blast charred black.

"Damn." Holly breathed out a shaky sigh. "I'm glad that worked. Wasn't sure if I was going to get the radius right."

Víriel pulled her knees up to her chest and fanned her boots, which were smoking slightly. "Close enough."

"Are you all right?" Holly took her face in her hands and examined the three parallel scratches running across her cheek. They were bleeding, but didn't appear to be too deep. "I-I can try healing that."

"I'll be fine. Save your energy." Víriel gave her a light smile, even though it seemed to hurt. "Just rub some dirt in it."

" _Don't_ do that, you'll get an infection." Holly tore off a relatively clean section of her shirt and held it up to Víriel's face.

"I thought you said you weren't going to put dirt on my face."

"It's not that dirty." Holly pressed the fabric to her face. "But if you'd like, I'll pull out my fully-stocked medicine bag and give you a nice, clean, white cloth."

Víriel laughed and leaned forward, and for one heart-stopping moment Holly thought she might move a little closer, but the ranger simply slipped the fabric from her hand and stood up. "Don't worry about me. We should get moving."

"Right." Holly stood as well and brushed herself off. They had to press on if they wanted to find Bilbo and Thorin. She sidestepped the ash-covered corpse of one of the creatures as they began walking. "I suppose these were the graugs the orcs mentioned. Didn't give us any trouble at all."

"Speak for yourself," Víriel pressed the cloth to her face and grimaced.

They made for the exit at the far end of the cave, but they'd barely made it a few steps before the rumble of footsteps made them pause. Holly and Víriel cursed in unison as a hulking figure rounded the corner and came into sight.

It seemed Mordor had no end of freakish monsters. If the creatures they had fought before resembled goblins, the one lumbering towards them now resembled a troll—if trolls were twenty feet tall with sharp, curved claws the length of her arm, two long tusks on its lower jaw, and multiple spikes protruding from its armored back.

Holly took several steps backwards. "What on earth is that?"

Víriel drew her knife, though it seemed tiny compared to the multiple sharp protrusions on the beast's body. "I think _that_ might be a graug."

 **I thought I posted this chapter, but apparently I forgot. I was actually planning on posting Chapter 25 today, so expect another upload in a few hours :)**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. All the big stuff is coming up soon, and thankfully I think I'll be able to make it to 30 chapters again. Next installment will focus on Bilbo and Thorin (separately or together? Who knows). Thanks to everyone who's followed this story. Please leave a comment letting me know what you liked/disliked. I really appreciate it.**


	25. To the Very End

**Chapter 25: To the Very End**

Bilbo couldn't breathe.

The dry, ashy air of Mordor wasn't helping much. Every rattling breath he took reminded him of how thirsty he was, and how far he still had to go.

But the discomforts his body experienced were mere details at the moment. It was the ring that had all of his focus.

He had been forced to put it back on in order to sneak past the orcs and into Mordor. It had seemed simple enough, as he had used it plenty of times before for that same purpose. After he had cleared the mountains, there had been no sign of orc patrols or guards, which meant he was free to take off the ring.

That was, unfortunately, easier said than done.

When Bilbo had finally mustered the will to take it off, a wave of fatigue had caused him to nearly collapse. Between that, and the ensuing waves of dizziness and nausea that had followed, it had been all he could do to slide the ring back on and hope for the best. That had immediately abated his illness.

Bilbo knew he could not travel all the way to the volcano while wearing the ring. That would only increase its hold on him. He still didn't know if he had it in him to destroy it.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Holly's pale face, the fear and hurt in her eyes when he had tried to push her away. He told himself he had said those horrible things so she wouldn't follow him, so no one else would get hurt for his sake. But he knew he had acted, at least in part, out of fear that one of the group would try to take the ring from him.

 _Which she did._

Holly had seen right through him—had tried to warn him that the ring was influencing him. She had been trying to help him.

 _And then she tried to take it. She would have said anything to gain your trust._

Bilbo shuddered. For a moment, the fear in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a dark, unfamiliar greed. Perhaps her words had been intended as nothing more than a distraction.

But regardless of what Holly had felt in that moment, or what she knew about the ring, Bilbo could not deny the feeling of _wrongness_ that persisted whenever he had the ring on. He had known about this feeling, and ignored it, for years.

Bilbo knew he had to take the ring off, and make for the volcano before it was too late. He placed two fingers on the gold band wrapped around his finger and shuddered in anticipation of the sickness he knew he would feel. His breathing grew shallow as dread pooled heavily in his gut.

He couldn't take it off—if he did, he wouldn't be able to move—

It was getting harder to breathe.

* * *

"That should be sufficient."

Léonere barely registered the sound of Annatar's voice. The pounding in his head nearly drowned out all other sounds around him. It was all he could do to focus on gathering more magical energy. How long he had been at it was beyond his knowledge—the dense, charcoal-colored clouds above completely blocked out the sky.

" _Léonere_. You can stop now."

He finally lowered his shaking arms with a gasp. The magic circle beneath his feet glowed with a soft blue light, and was much brighter now than it had been before. He sat (or rather, fell) down and grabbed his waterskin. The last few drops at the bottom were warm as they slid down his throat.

"My, my. I am impressed." Annatar walked closer and inspected the circle, his posture erect as always. Léonere wondered if the man ever grew tired. "And it only took you about twenty years."

" _What?_ "

"You grew quite an impressive beard in that time."

Léonere's hand flew to his chin, but it was clean-shaven. He looked up to see Annatar smirking down at him. He let out a rusty chuckle and tossed the empty waterskin to the side. "What's next?"

"You should rest, now. Even great mages need to gather their strength."

There was no need to tell him twice. Léonere rested his elbows on his knees and dragged his hands across his sweaty face. His head buzzed with thirst and exhaustion.

"Oh. You might want to take a look at this."

A low rumble sounded in the distance. This was nothing out of the ordinary—thunder was all too common in the skies of Mordor. It took a great deal of effort for Léonere to lift his head to look at his companion. "What is it?"

Annatar was standing at the edge of the tower, looking out at the desolate land. He half-turned towards him and asked, "Have you ever seen the eruption of a volcano before?"

Another rumble sounded, this one a little louder. Léonere dragged himself to his feet and staggered to the edge of the tower. The mountain looked the same as it did the last time he'd looked southwest—glowing red-hot at its peak and belching grey-black smoke.

"How do you know it's about to erupt?"

Annatar ignored him, choosing instead to watch the volcano. Before he could repeat his question, a sharp movement in the corner of his eye distracted him.

A plume of light gray smoke erupted from the tip of the volcano and billowed out into an enormous cloud. Moment later, a sharp cracking noise, not unlike the spell Léonere had used to defeat the bandits, made him flinch.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Annatar's eyes were still fixed on the volcano. "The power of the earth so rarely reveals itself."

"It's...terrifying." Léonere straightened up. Gray clouds of ash were tumbling down the mountainside, reminding him of an avalanche he had seen in the mountains to the north. "Will it affect us?"

"We're too high for the dust to reach us," Annatar said irreverently. Not that he ever showed concern, anyway. "Rest up. We don't have forever."

Léonere lowered himself again with a sigh. He sat against a mostly intact section of the tower wall and leaned his head back to gaze at the gray-red sky. He would welcome a departure from this place. The thought that someone had taken the time to build a tower and live here was largely irrational to him.

At the edge of the tower, Annatar watched the eruption, the light of the volcano's peak reflected in his eyes.

* * *

The caragor was fast, and traversed Mordor's rocky terrain with ease. Thorin knew he would have little trouble reaching his destination—the only problem was, he didn't know where exactly he had to go.

He and Torvin had been riding for about fifteen minutes, but his worry had drawn out the time to seem like hours. He knit his brows together. There had been no sign of Bilbo, and it was possible that they could have passed him without even knowing it.

Thorin slowed to a halt, and signalled for Torvin to do the same.

"No luck?" Tovin sat up and scanned the area. A low rumble shook the ground, and both caragors shifted uneasily.

"I have no idea where he is," Thorin said. Despair weighed on his voice more than he'd intended, and he took a couple breaths to calm himself.

"Like looking for a needle in a haystack. A large, craggy haystack."

The earth gave another low growl. Thorin frowned and looked towards the volcano. He knew that was Bilbo's destination—perhaps it would be best to head there and hope they crossed paths eventually.

A gray cloud issued from the peak, followed by a crashing noise similar to thunder.

"Now, that is not good." Torvin turned his caragor away from the mountain as the cloud poured down the sides, a hint of anxiety entering his voice. "We gotta haul ass."

"What is that?"

"Ash. It'll sweep down here and choke everything in its path. Not that anything down here is worth choking, anyway. Except us."

Bilbo would be caught in the haze. Thorin scanned the landscape again, desperate for any sign of movement or life. "I cannot leave him."

"You stay here, you'll die."

Thorin shook his head and turned to the other dwarf. "Go, then. You've given me more than enough help. But I cannot flee and leave my friend to die here."

Torvin turned to look at the stretch of barren rock in front of him, then turned back to Thorin. "All right, ya crazy bastard. Let's go find your friend."

"Thank you," he said, and meant it. The dwarf barely knew him, but he was risking his life to help him. Thorin would not forget his aid—even if the dwarf did seem slightly insane.

They turned their mounts north and spurred them on towards the approaching storm.

* * *

When Bilbo finally came to his senses, he wondered why the earth was shaking. The tremors stopped after a few moments, and he registered with no small amount of relief that the world was not shrouded in wispy distortions as it was when he had the ring on. A brief inspection revealed that it was safely stowed away in his pocket.

Another tremor caused the earth to shudder beneath him. When it ended, Bilbo stood on shaky legs. He took several breaths to quell the nausea in his gut. His mouth was parched, and he wished he had brought supplies—or at least a waterskin—into Mordor. As it was, he had lost his pack when he had fallen into the river. There was nothing to be done for it, other than to drop the ring into the volcano and leave Mordor as quickly as possible.

Bilbo tilted his head up to look at the mountain, and stared at the plumes of white smoke pouring down from the peak. He winced as a sharp _bang!_ echoed around the jagged hollow where he was standing.

"That doesn't look good," Bilbo said to himself, and winced at how hoarse his voice sounded. Hopefully the smoke would dissipate by the time he reached the volcano. Either way, there was no sense in turning back now.

Some of the fatigue had left his limbs, so Bilbo started walking. The gravel was slippery under his feet, and more than once he stumbled while trying to climb a rocky incline.

 _This would be so much easier with the ring. You'd be able to go faster—run, even. You wouldn't feel thirsty anymore…_

Bilbo shook off the intrusive thoughts. He needed to stay focused. With one final heave, he pushed himself up and continued on. As he walked, his footsteps grew steadier, and he felt his breathing return to normal.

Perhaps he would be able to make it after all. He looked up at the mountain and was surprised to find that the cloud rushing down the mountainside had not dispersed at all. In fact, it appeared to have grown in size.

Bilbo pulled himself up onto a ridge and paused. Climbing the mountain was looking more dangerous by the moment, but he couldn't turn back now. He didn't know how long he would be able to resist the ring.

The next best thing to do was to find shelter. He would have to press on, and hope there was a cave or two somewhere close by.

Unfortunately, there was no such cave to be found. Bilbo spent the next few minutes climbing and searching, all while trying to ignore the looming cloud that was growing closer by the minute. The terrain below the mountain was craggy and uneven, but not so uneven that the dry rock yielded a practical place to hide.

The already dim sky was growing darker. Bilbo looked up and bit back a groan as he saw the billowing gray cloud looming above, mere moments from swallowing him whole.

"Bilbo!"

He turned, and froze at the sight of two figures mounted on what looked like a pair of large wargs. It was too dark and they were too far away for Bilbo to recognize the riders by sight, but the voice that had called out to him was unmistakable.

Bilbo took a step forwards, opening his mouth to respond, but a wave of ash smothered his words, and the world around him turned dark.

* * *

Thorin coughed up dust as the thick substance swirled around him. He blinked against the specks pelting his eyes and fought to keep his balance as the caragor stirred uneasily. He urged the beast forward, desperate to reach Bilbo, but the creature had other ideas and threw him off before he could steady himself.

He cursed and brought one arm up to shield his face against the onslaught of ash. A small stone flew past his ear and pelted against the rocky ground, followed by more stones of various sizes.

It was nearly impossible to breathe with the thickness of ash in the air. Thorin pulled up his shirt to cover his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. He needed to get to Bilbo.

It was impossible to see as well, but there was nothing to be done for that, so Thorin struggled onward, using his stone sense as a guide.

The cloud was so thick, and the noise of the rushing dust and pelting rocks was so loud that Thorin would not have found Bilbo at all had their arms not brushed against each other. His free hand shot out to grab him, and he pulled him over to a low outcropping of rock, where they could catch their bearings.

They could not stay out here. It was getting harder to breathe, and Thorin could feel himself getting light-headed. He could sense a hollow area in the earth beneath their feet. He pulled the both of them down the hill, praying that there was an entrance to the cave, and that he would be able to find it in time.

The entrance was a mere gap in the side of a small rock face, small enough to easily pass unnoticed but just large enough to allow them to squeeze through. Once they were far enough away from the entrance and had access to fresh air, Thorin dropped his shirt from his face and took deep breaths. Gradually, his head began to clear.

Next to him, Bilbo leaned over and let out a rattling cough. He spat a few times to get rid of the ash in his mouth and gasped for air.

Thorin put a hand on his shoulder, listening carefully to his breathing. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Bilbo nodded and wiped his mouth. As soon as he straightened up, Thorin leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. At the moment, words could not convey the relief he felt. They had only barely made it.

For a minute, they stayed like that, the only sound in the cramped space of the cave being their mingled breathing and the faint echo of rocks battering the ground outside.

"How did you find me?" Bilbo asked, his voice raspy. He had both hands resting on Thorin's shoulders, and Thorin could feel the faint tremors passing through his fingertips.

He pulled back. There was barely any light in the cave, but from what he could see, they were both covered in a layer of ash.

He turned to the entrance. When the shroud had hit, he had lost sight of Torvin. He hoped the dwarf had made it out safely.

"It was mere chance, it seems," Thorin said, turning back to Bilbo. "Though I went through a great deal of trouble getting inside Mordor so I could search for you. Which would not have been necessary had you not run off on your own."

"I'm sorry." Bilbo drew back, his tone stiffening. "But this is something I need to do on my own. I...I can't let anyone else get hurt on my account."

He knew all too well the guilt associated with seeing one's allies hurt. But he also knew that the risk of injury to protect another was nothing compared to the risk of losing them.

"You almost died out there. I would never forgive myself if I let something happen to you."

Even in the dim light, Thorin could see the pain on Bilbo's face as he said, "You have to let me do this alone. You were right—the ring must be destroyed, no matter what. And if I am the one to do it, then I d-don't want anyone else risking their lives. This is _my_ burden, and mine alone." He had moved away from the wall and positioned himself at the end of the cave opposite the entrance.

Thorin shook his head. "I will not forsake you. I know you would stand by my side if I were in your position. You gave up your life of peace and left your home to help me reclaim mine. Even when I fell into the clutches of madness, you did everything in your power to keep myself and my kin safe. You have my heart, _amrâlimê._ The burden you carry is as much mine as it is yours."

He reached out for him, but Bilbo stepped out of reach. Thorin tried not to flinch as he lowered his hand. Was Bilbo afraid of him?

When he finally spoke, Bilbo's voice was low. "Would you try and take it from me?"

"What?" Even as the words left his lips, Thorin felt dread and terror slide down his neck. The same question had plagued the back of his mind ever since he had learned of Bilbo's possession of the ring. He pushed the idea to the back of his mind during the day, but at night it haunted his dreams.

They still had not found a cure for his sickness.

"This."

Thorin sucked in a sharp breath as Bilbo withdrew the ring from his pocket and held it out in his palm. His voice had lost some of its steadiness as he repeated, "Would you take it from me?"

The smooth gold band seemed to glow in the darkness of the cavern. If not for the power imbued within, it would have been worthless next to the treasure Thorin possessed in Erebor.

He could not deny that he wanted it with every fiber of his being. Of its own accord, one of his hands reached out once more. If he decided to take it, Bilbo would not be able to stop him.

The ring could cure his sickness. It would make him a great ruler—not only of Erebor, but of all the other dwarven realms, even those that had been lost. With it, he would have the power to reclaim the wealth and strength and history his people had once possessed. The deaths of his grandfather, his father, and his brother would finally have meaning.

The future of his people was mere inches from his fingertips, resting in the palm of a halfling who could not stop him from taking it.

Bilbo's palm was soft, but slightly calloused from wielding his short sword. He had lifted that sword in defense of Thorin's life more than once. He had fought off orcs and wargs and spiders with less training than most new recruits in the Royal Guard. He had lifted that hand countless times to gesture animatedly while telling one of his stories. That was the hand that had rested on Thorin's shoulder in a heartfelt attempt to relieve the burdens that rested upon it, that had cupped his cheek when they had kissed for the first time—that now held the object that could destroy them both.

Thorin shoved his hand forward and closed Bilbo's fingers around the ring. Tremors raked up his spine and wavered his breath. His ears were ringing. But beneath it all he could feel the same breathless clarity he had experienced the moment he had tossed his crown to the floor two years ago and shaken off the burden of the gold sickness for the first time.

Bilbo thrust the ring back into his pocket, his hands just as unsteady as Thorin's. His eyes were wide, but instead of fear they were full of relief and something else Thorin couldn't quite name.

"It is your burden," Thorin said. "But I will guard you with my life and see it through with you. To the very end."

"To the very end," Bilbo said, and reached out to pull him close.

Thorin welcomed his embrace, the warmth of his body helping to steady him. They were nearly at the end of their journey. Though they had yet to destroy the ring and make it safely home, a part of him felt as though a battle had already been won.

Whatever lay ahead, he already had a victory behind him to bolster his courage.

 **I know one of the actors (probably Andy Serkis) described possession of the ring as an addiction, so I tried to describe Bilbo's struggle in a similar manner. Thankfully none of it is from personal experience; I went off of what I've seen in documentaries/accounts.**

 **Also fun fact: while I was writing the scene where Bilbo and Thorin are running through the ash clouds, I felt a little like I was breathing in the ash myself. Has anyone else had an experience like that, where you physically felt as though you were in the story?**

 **Torvin's not gonna make another appearance in this fic, but rest assured, he's kicking ass somewhere in Nurn.**

 **That final scene with Bilbo and Thorin was one of the most intense things I've ever written. Obviously nowhere near as Iconic as the "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you" scene, but I'm still proud of it. I hope you all found it realistic; I think Thorin has grown enough as a character to be able to resist the ring (and maybe the gold sickness too~)**

 **Anyway, this note is getting ridiculously long, so I'll just wrap it up by saying thank you to everyone who has supported this story so far, or just silently read along. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought; it means a lot to me.**


	26. The Truth and the Lie

**Chapter 26: The Truth and the Lie**

A sharp gust of air whistled past Holly's back as she dove to the side, the graug's claws barely missing her. She pushed herself to her feet and looked to Víriel, who had dodged in the opposite direction when the beast had charged at them.

They locked eyes and Víriel nodded as if to say, _You know the plan, right?_

Holly nodded back and turned to the graug, which had skidded to a halt just before slamming into the cavern wall. " _Galthel perien ce—_ "

"No!" Víriel ran over to her and put one hand on her shoulder. "We're running from this one, all right?"

"I can take it." Holly squared up as the beast lumbered around and faced them. "That thing's legs are twice my height—there's no way we'll outrun it."

"Which is why we should have started moving already." Víriel adjusted her grip on her knife. "All right, you get one shot at this thing, and then we leave."

The graug charged again, and Holly took a deep breath, outstretching both palms to face it. _One, two, three…_ " _Cae perien ceberis eria!_ "

A spike of earth erupted from the ground and slammed into the underside of the beast's jaw. The beast staggered back, but the blow hadn't even broken the skin.

"All right, good shot, let's get out of here now." Víriel grabbed her hand.

"But I didn't even try the lightning...oh, fine." Holly let the ranger pull her towards the exit of the cave.

Behind them, the graug roared. It swiped away the earth with a single blow and began its pursuit.

Víriel glanced behind them and tightened her hold on Holly's hand. "It's gaining on us. Slow it down."

"And you call me the bossy one…" She focused on the stone ceiling above. " _Cae perien cornen tornae._ "

A large chunk of rock fell from the ceiling, and Holly heard the graug let out a grunt, followed by the sound of its body hitting the ground.

They rounded the corner, growing hopeful at the sight of their surroundings lightening. When the entrance came into sight, however, they halted.

Great clouds of white dust swirled at the entrance to the cave, and a fine white layer of it covered the first few feet of the cave floor. Holly walked over and smudged it with her toe.

"Ash. The volcano must have erupted." She stared into the thick shroud and her stomach dropped. "Bilbo and Thorin are out there."

"We'll find them," Víriel said, her gaze focused on the inside of the cave. "We might have to wait for this to settle down, though."

"You act as if I'm only good for slowing enemies down," Holly said, though the quip fell flat on her tongue. If Bilbo and Thorin had been out in the open when the eruption happened, they would have only minutes to find shelter. She held one palm out towards the ash clouds. " _Gwelu dae rammas forven._ "

A great gust of wind swept through the cloud, clearing a swath of land. It was only a temporary solution, but hopefully it would allow them to safely traverse Mordor in search of their friends.

She turned to face Víriel, who was still watching the interior of the cave. "Come on. We need to get moving."

* * *

When it came to spells, most mages tended to separate them into three categories of difficulty. Spells that manipulated light and dark were easy and required little energy. Those that created thunder, fire, and lightning were a little harder to cast. Moving physical objects like water, earth, and ice were the most difficult and required a significant amount of energy.

Manipulating wind was somewhere in between the latter two categories (Holly had been present for many heated debates on its placement). That being said, Holly considered herself advanced enough to push a bit of ash out of the way without feeling like she was going to fall over.

But the clouds were rather persistent, and didn't want to stay _put_ after she'd moved them. There was that, and the fact that they had been traveling for the better part of an hour, and Holly was beginning to feel the fatigue of the past day catch up to her. She'd had plenty of rest after passing out from having her shoulder ripped out of its socket, and then being knocked out by an orc's knife after that. But the spells she'd cast since then had sapped a great deal of energy, and she knew it would be dangerous to push herself much further.

"Seems to be getting close to nighttime," Víriel said, gesturing at the sky.

Holly followed her gaze, and shook her head as a wave of dizziness made her vision warp. "Hard to tell time here. Reminds me of Mirkwood. Actually, I think I'd prefer a cursed forest to this." She turned back to the ash cloud. " _Gwelu dae rammas forven._ "

Víriel was still looking upwards. "I think I can see a star."

"Really?" Holly looked up again, her head spun, and the next thing she knew was Víriel's concerned face hovering above her own.

"Are you all right?"

Holly blinked. She was sitting on the ground, one of Víriel's arms supporting her back. "What happened?"

"You fell. Tipped over like a dead tree in a storm." Víriel searched her face, a tiny furrow in her brow. "Let's take a minute. You need to rest."

Holly frowned. She hadn't forgotten the deal they'd made back in Osgiliath. But the volcano loomed nearby, a glowing red beacon guiding them through a sea of ash. "We're almost there. I can make it."

"You can barely stand." Víriel stood up and pulled her to her feet. "I wouldn't mind a chance to rest my feet, either."

"All right, we'll take ten minutes. And then we have to keep moving."

They found a small outcropping of rock that would serve as adequate shelter from the ash clouds. The shroud appeared to be settling, anyway, and hopefully the area would be mostly clear by the time they started moving again.

Holly nearly collapsed against the wall. The jagged rock poked against her back, and no matter how much she shifted, she couldn't quite get comfortable.

Víriel sat next to her and let out a long sigh, leaning her head back. "Oh, that's much better."

"Speak for yourself. This is like trying to get comfortable on a pile of pinecones."

Letting out a soft laugh, Víriel slung one arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her so she was sitting with her back against the ranger's side. "Better?"

"Um." Holly swallowed hard, intensely aware of the weight of her arm on her shoulder.

"Sorry." Víriel loosened her grip. "Should I have asked before I did that?"

"No, no, it's fine. I like touching you. I-I mean…" That had sounded much less suggestive in her head. "I'm only trying to say—"

"Don't worry, I understand. You've been _quite_ forward about that."

Holly thought back to their entangled bodies at the inn at Cair Andros and blushed. "I told you, I have a condition—"

"Does that condition make you kiss people too?"

"I don't—that's— _what?_ " Holly turned so she could see Víriel's face, and was surprised to see that her cheeks were pink as well.

"How much do you remember from the night you drank with me?"

Her stomach sank. "I already told you, I don't remember anything."

"Right. Well. I may have neglected to mention...after I got you upstairs, you started being very physically…" Víriel made a vague gesture with her hands, but it was enough to get the point across.

Holly closed her eyes, wishing the barren Mordor soil would open up and swallow her. "Oh, Eru. I am so sorry."

"Don't be. You're not a bad kisser."

"Was that all that happened?"

"Of course. You tried to take off my shirt at one point, and I stopped you. And then you fell asleep." Víriel's amused smile faltered as she took in Holly's pained expression.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid of me."

"I didn't mind." Some of the nonchalance disappeared from her voice as she said, "Unless you were thinking of someone else, when—"

"I don't believe I was thinking at all." Holly saw Víriel's smile drop completely, and mentally kicked herself for sounding like this was one of the worst things that had happened to her. Which it certainly wasn't. "Listen, I'm more than a little embarrassed right now. But that's partly because I wish I could have expressed my, um, interest in a...less abrupt fashion."

Víriel raised her eyebrows. "Oh."

"I-I mean, I do find you attractive. And I do wish I'd been a bit more tactful in expressing that. But we're in the middle of an incredibly dangerous journey and at the moment it's all I can do to keep my friends alive and if I had to deal with something like this on top of it I might just burst into flames." She gestured around them. "I mean, we're in Mordor, for Eru's sake. This is hardly the time or place to—to…"

"It's all right. I understand." Víriel reached up and squeezed her shoulder. "I'd rather you not burst into flames."

Holly lowered her gaze to her boot lace, which was slightly frayed from their attempt to escape the orcs. "Before I drop the subject, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Does it bother you at all, that I'm—"

"Of course not. I've always preferred women, actually."

"I was about to reference my height, but it's nice to know you also accept me in that regard." Holly looked up and gave her a tentative smile. "If we do make it out of this alive, we'll talk about it."

"I'd like that." She settled back against the rock face. "Won't help our odds if we don't get a little rest, though."

"Fine. I'll shut up." Holly settled down as well. After a moment's hesitation, she moved over so her arm was pressed against Víriel's.

* * *

" _Shakh Bûrz azabrûzum, Gothûk-ob,_

 _Lagat bot doraz agh afat bolb-lab ghaampir._

 _Grish, ghaash, matum, barashat kaal._

 _Ghaamp-ishi abûrgulu-ob, kûm bûrzum-ob fûthat."_

"The incantation is in the Black Speech?" Léonere shook his head. "You remember our deal."

After resting for a while, he was back on his feet and ready to continue. As Annatar had promised, the ash cloud had not reached the tower, but was swirling at its base.

"Would you like to sit down and try to translate it?" Annatar crossed his arms, his eyes sharp. "In the end, they are only words, Léonere. There is no evil inherent in a language."

"A language used by the orcs of Mordor, and invented by the Dark Lord himself." Léonere hesitated on what he was about to say next, then pressed forward before he could find a reason not to. "How do _you_ know the Black Speech?"

"I am a scholar. And I do not limit myself with baseless superstitions."

At the back of his mind, Léonere once again considered walking away. Something about it didn't feel right. But the disapproving look on Annatar's face made his stomach drop in a way he didn't quite understand, so he said, "Say it to me again. I'll need to memorize it."

* * *

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and Holly sat up. Then she scrambled to her feet. "Oh, no. No, no…" She turned to Víriel, who was leaning against the rock face with her eyes closed. She knelt down and shook her shoulder. "Wake up."

Her eyes opened and she blinked to rid them of sleep. "What is it?"

"How long were we asleep?"

Víriel sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Ten minutes?"

Holly stood back up and let out a stream of curses.

"I'm sure it wasn't that long. Look, the ash is still—"

"Do you feel that?" Holly whirled around, scanning the haze around them. Building in the air was the unmistakable tension of a spell about to be cast. It was spilling out in waves, carrying a power far greater than she'd ever felt before.

"It's...magic?" Víriel guessed, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Yes, but I don't know who's casting it." The faintest tremor entered her voice. What would another mage be doing in Mordor? Especially one so powerful?

The clouds shifted, and Holly caught sight of the ruins of a tower, sitting not far from where they stood. She could feel the magic radiating from that direction. Her stomach dropped.

Perhaps it wasn't another mage at all. It was quite possible that the ring was somehow interacting with the nexus of dark magic around the tower, creating a powerful reaction.

"There." She pointed to the tower, and Víriel stood up and went to stand next to her. Her voice was heavy with dread as she said, "Bilbo didn't go to the volcano. He's at the tower. H-He must be using the ring. Or it's using him."

"For what purpose?"

"I don't know." If the ring was exerting its power, though, that could only mean that Bilbo had lost control of it.

"Then let's go find out. Come on." Víriel gestured for her to follow, and they broke into a run.

Ahead of them, the tower loomed black and broken on a hill of craggy rocks.

* * *

The energy swirling around the tower was palpable now. Léonere could feel it on the back of his neck, in between his fingers, behind his eyelids. He raised his hands, closed his eyes, and repeated once again, " _Shakh Bûrz azabrûzum…_ "

The Black Speech felt rough and incongruous, rolling up his throat and scratching against the roof of his mouth. Saying the words left a bad taste on his tongue, but he pushed the thought away and focused on the spell.

" _Grish, ghaash, matum, barashat kaal…"_

The crackle of pure magic resounded through the tower. Another tremor, like thunder, rocked the stone beneath his feet, but Léonere felt weightless, as fluid and inconsequential as the hot air around him.

Lightning cleaved the air above the tower. Instead of flashing out of existence, it stayed, a pure white, fluctuating manifestation of magic. The light expanded, tearing through space and time like the opening of an eyelid. Through the gateway that had opened, Léonere caught a glimpse of pure black night instead of the cloudy Mordor sky.

" _Brilliant_ ," Annatar said. "You did it."

Léonere let out a shaky laugh, his arms trembling with a mixture of exhilaration and fear. "We did. We did it."

The clatter of footsteps jarred him from his euphoria, and he turned in time to see two figures ascend the staircase and come to a halt at the top.

"Léonere?"

Though it took him a moment, he recognized them—the two women that had traveled with him to the tomb.

Annatar's voice was sharp and impatient. "Focus on the portal, Léonere. I'll take care of them."

Léonere lowered his hands. His hold on the portal was steady enough that he could divert some of his attention from it. "No, it's all right. I know them."

"Who are you talking to?" The shorter one, Holly, was frowning at him.

"It's all right." He brought his hands back up, though this time in a gesture of surrender. He could make sense of this. He could explain. "This is Annatar, my friend. I met him shortly after our group split up."

Both women looked around the tower, then stared at him.

"I-I realize this is a bit of an...unlikely situation…" That didn't even begin to cover it. "But this is all for a good cause." He glanced at Annatar for help, but the man had fallen silent.

"There's no one there."

"There's…" Léonere blinked. "W-What are you talking about?"

Holly was almost glaring at him. "Who were you talking to? It's just the three of us here."

"I...I don't understand." He turned back to his companion.

Annatar was watching the scene with mild annoyance, as one would if they walked outside and found the day was to be rainy instead of sunny. "Oh, dear," he said. "I was hoping we could at least finish up with everything before you found out."

"Found out what?" His voice came out trembling, and the tiny voice that had been telling him that something was wrong this whole time swelled up to deliver a single, resounding, _I told you so_.

"How can you distinguish a truth from a lie? What is real from what is most certainly _not_ real?" Annatar approached him with slow, deliberate steps. "Does something exist because you want it to, or because someone else has decided that it is so?"

The thick, hot air was choking him. Léonere glanced from Annatar to Holly and Víriel, searching for a sign that they were playing some sort of practical joke on him. But the two women kept staring in a mixture of concern and fear. Víriel had her knife out and ready.

"They can't see me, Léonere, because I do not exist to them," he said, his voice seething. "Their truth is not the same as your truth."

Léonere found himself shaking his head. "You lied to me. Y-You…" Whatever veil had been cast over his eyes was torn away. "This whole time, you've been lying to me." Above him, the portal crackled and warped as his hold on it slipped.

"Focus on the portal, Léonere." A hint of anxiety entered Annatar's voice. "I know you're upset, but if you let go now, you _will_ regret it."

"I won't." Over his shock and fear, a strange blanket of calm had settled. "But you might."

The portal flickered as Léonere loosed his grip on it.

Annatar's eyes flared a dangerous, angry gold. "You meddle with forces you do not understand. If you think you can end it so easily, you—"

" _Léonere_."

He started as someone grabbed his arm. Holly was glaring up at him, and Víriel was close behind.

"Are you listening to me? What's going on here? How did you get into Mordor?"

"I-I…" He wasn't even sure where to begin. Before he could give any semblance of an answer, a great shrieking noise, like twisting metal, came from above. They all looked up to see the portal writhing, twisting in on itself. Then it began to expand, the blackness within growing wider by the second.

"You put your foot in the door." Annatar's voice was low, taunting, and close to his ear. "But you failed to close it. And now _he_ is coming through."

Léonere could feel it, too. A cold, terrible dread seeped through the portal and made him nearly sink to his knees. Next to him, the women wore similar expressions of horror.

He had to stop it. He had been the one to start this in the first place. Using all of his remaining strength, he reached out to the portal and tried to close it.

The cold and dread pushed back. It was like trying to shut a door with a pile of bricks wedged in the opening. After a moment, Léonere stopped, his chest heaving.

The portal twisted again, its edges jumping in and out of existence. White sparks spat and flashed against the dark sky. Then it flickered, and winked out of sight.

"Did...Did that do it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Another shrieking noise sounded from farther away. The three of them ran to the edge of the tower. Patches of white sparks appeared across the land, widening into spots of black before twisting out of existence again.

Léonere cursed under his breath. When he had released his hold on the portal, he had left the magic without a physical manifestation to anchor itself. But instead of dissipating, it was jumping around, seeking a foothold that did not exist.

He turned around, but Annatar was gone. It was as though he had never existed in the first place.

"Are you ready to answer us now?" Víriel met his gaze with steely green eyes. When he nodded, she said, "Let's start out with something simple: How did you get into Mordor?"

"I...I don't quite understand it. I used the nexus of dark energy surrounding this tower t-to transport myself from outside of Mordor to here."

Víriel's expression contorted, as though she didn't believe him, but Holly nodded, her gaze still focused on the flickering portals below. "Have you seen Bilbo?"

"The hobbit? No. I haven't really seen anyone since I split up from you lot."

"Except for your imaginary friend."

Léonere sighed and shook his head. They must have thought he was mad. He didn't really blame them. "His name is Annatar. He...found me after I left you lot, said he had a mission, and that he needed my help." He shook his head, nausea making his head spin. "He was playing me for a fool this entire time. I-I should have realized sooner, but—"

"But he made it seem like his decisions were your own," Holly finished for him. Her expression had softened a fraction.

"Yes. How did you—"

"Two minds where there should only be one. I've...seen a case like yours before." She straightened, her eyes boring into his. "There must have been a trigger for it, a physical anchor through which his consciousness was connected to yours. Did you experience anything that might have caused that?"

"The chalice," Léonere said, and the two words seemed to empty his lungs of air. "When I drank from it, I thought it had just healed me, but that must have been when he…" He shivered despite the hot air. "Do you know if there's a cure? Some way to get rid of it?"

Holly turned away from him, and he could see her answer in the stiffness of her shoulders. "Don't know. I'm not an expert."

"Hey." Víriel reached down to grab her arm, gesturing towards the plains below with her chin. "Do you see that?"

One of the portals near the tower was distorted, the darkness within stretching and expanding. A group of creatures slipped out of the darkness. They were too far away to be fully identified, but their metallic skin and jagged tails gave them an unnatural appearance that was unlike anything Léonere had ever seen before.

"The portal that you made," Víriel said. "Where does it lead to?"

"I-I don't know." Yet another crucial detail that had slipped his mind. Léonere mentally kicked himself.

"So you just opened a portal without knowing where it leads, in the middle of Mordor?" Holly's voice had grown sharp again.

"I know I made a mistake. But I'll figure out a way to close it."

A sudden noise, like hearing wind blow in reverse, made them start. A strange aura slid over the tower, leaving a sensation on Léonere's skin similar to cold oil. He turned around, as did the others, and they were met with the sight of a being even more terrifying than the unnatural creatures below the tower.

The entity before them looked as though it was made out of pure darkness, beams and shrouds of it twisting and tangling and sucking the light from its surroundings.

A familiar, smooth voice seemed the emanate from everywhere at once. "I believe this form suits me a bit more. Wouldn't you agree, Léonere?"

"I can see him now," Víriel said.

"W-What are you?" Léonere asked, his voice hoarse with terror.

A line of flames ignited in the darkness, tracing the outline of a tall figure. He recognized the silhouette almost immediately—he had seen it only in tapestries and paintings, but the shape was unmistakable.

"I've been called many names through the ages. The foolish Numenoreans called me Annatar, right up until I caused their kingdom to be swallowed up by the sea." The fiery outline flashed, and somehow Léonere could tell that it was smirking. "You lot tend to refer to me as Lord Sauron."

The shadows around his silhouette seemed to be reaching out, as if they were hungry. Léonere stepped back as one tendril of darkness brushed against his cheek, light as air but carrying a weight of pure dread that made him shudder.

"Now...there's still quite a bit of work left to do before my master is free. And I can't afford any distractions or complications."

The shadows grew darker and deeper until they were almost pure black, like the insides of the portals below.

"So, which one of you would like to die first?" The black energy around Sauron leaked out like spilled ink, reaching out in sinister tendrils. In the same moment, a flash of steel spun through the center of the flames, sinking into the blackness.

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven._ " A blast of lightning followed, cutting through the shadows and leaving blinding white lines in its wake.

Sauron's aura curled in on itself, retreating just the tiniest bit, and for a moment Léonere thought perhaps they would be able to drive him away—or escape, at the very least.

Then the shadows unfurled, stretching out almost apathetically.

"Well, that's decided, then." Sauron's voice was cold and languid as ever. "I believe you were the one to attack first, so I'll start with you."

Víriel's hands, now empty, clenched into fists.

"No," Holly said. "Stop, this isn't—"

Sauron lunged at Víriel, and she barely had time to cry out before she vanished in the piercing black folds.

 **Pretty late in the game, but things finally come clear between Holly and Víriel! I know a lot of people were invested in the Holly/Bilbo ship (or Hobo as I like to call it) but I feel like these two are a little bit of a better match for each other.**

 **The incantation Léonere uses is Neo-Black Speech since Tolkien's Black Speech is made up of less than 25 words. Took me a long ass time to come up with that incantation, but I'm pretty proud of it. It also sounds 500% less dumb in the Black Speech, so I'm not going to put the translation here. It also contains mild spoilers, though I'm pretty sure you've all figured out what the purpose of the portal is.**

 **And the truth finally comes out! We learn Annatar is a fake bitch, even though it was pretty obvious before! Any questions you have about Sauron and the soul-connection thing should be answered in the next chapter. I hope all this magic stuff isn't too confusing.**

 **Thanks to everyone for reading/following/favoriting. Please feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought, or any questions you might have. I'd really appreciate it. Until next time!**


	27. The Fall

**Chapter 27: The Fall**

"Víriel!" Holly lunged at the shroud, but it launched her backwards, causing her to skid along the stone floor.

Léonere stood there, frozen. He wanted to help, wanted to stop Sauron, but what could he do? They were facing down an ancient being with power beyond what any of them could comprehend. Perhaps the smartest thing to do in this scenario was to run and pray Sauron did not pursue him.

"I'm sorry about this. It's not personal," Holly said.

He turned to see her standing a few feet away, palm outstretched. "What are you—"

" _Galthel perien ceberis forven._ "

She spoke the incantation quickly, but Léonere was faster. " _Queran!_ " He swung his hand to the side, and the bolt of lightning deflected into what was left of the tower wall, blasting up chunks of rubble. "What is wrong with you?"

Holly's eyes were hard as she said, "You're the physical host for the soul of one of the most dangerous beings on this earth. I kill you, his power diminishes and he stops attacking my friend." She cast a fearful glance over to the writhing cloud of shadows, then bent down to pick up a piece of rubble. "Like I said, it's not personal."

She rushed at him, but Léonere easily knocked away the rock and pushed her back. He wasn't particularly strong as grown men went, but Holly was still half his size and not very strong either. "I'm not going to fight you. W-We'll figure out another way."

" _Naur perien halthel torin._ " Holly grit her teeth when Léonere turned away the string of flames she launched at him. "Fight for your life, or let me kill you."

"I-I'm not going to hurt you. I won't. There has to be—"

"I killed Alistair."

Ice dripped into his insides, clung to his temples, crept over his heart. "What did you say?"

"I lied about the orc. It was _me_." Holly had a savage light in her eyes as she as she advanced on him. "I took a sword and plunged it straight into his heart. And then I watched him bleed out. _Cae perien ceberis eria._ "

" _Quera_." The spike of stone aimed at his heart crumbled to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. Léonere stood ready to parry another spell. He realized his mistake a moment too late as Holly leapt through the dust, another piece of rubble in hand, and tackled him to the ground.

He caught her wrists as she tried to bring the rock down on his head. "Y-You killed him." He knew his grip on her arms was tight enough to hurt, but he wasn't sure he cared.

Holly looked him straight in the eye and dropped the rock. It hit him on the bridge of his nose, making him flinch. She ripped her arms from his grasp and punched him hard on the side of his head.

With a cry of pain and anguish, Léonere grabbed her by the waist and heaved her off of him. She grunted as she hit the edge of the tower, then gasped as her momentum carried her over the brink. One hand scrabbled against the dark stone, found no purchase, and then she was gone.

Léonere pushed himself up into a kneeling position, letting out a ragged gasp that had nothing to do with his throbbing head. He'd killed people before—Geth the bandit, the merchant lying in the field—but it still left him with a lingering sickness that he knew would haunt his dreams.

Holly had been his ally, once. She'd only been trying to save her friend.

Blood dripped from his throbbing nose, and a few tears slipped down to join it on the dusty stone floor.

"I see you got rid of the other one for me." Sauron's voice jolted him back to reality. "Perhaps we still can work together."

Léonere looked up, wiping blood from his face. The Dark Lord was hovering a few feet away. Behind him, he could see Víriel's body. She was lying completely still, her face pale.

"Interesting theory that girl had," he continued. "And she wasn't entirely wrong. Almost a shame she had to die."

"Why did you make me do this?" Léonere asked, gesturing to the magic circle. "I-If you are who you say you are, why did you need me?"

He wondered why he was bothering to question an all-powerful Dark Lord who was likely to kill him within the next few minutes. He had only ever been a means to an end. Annatar's face flashed before his vision, and he wondered if he had cared for him at all.

"My power has been diminished since my defeat at the hands of the Gondorian prince. It would ultimately be a waste of energy and resources to attempt to open the portal myself. You truly are a powerful and talented mage, Léonere, and your ability has served me well."

"You said that Holly had a theory about our...connection," he said, keeping his gaze away from the edge of the tower. "Two minds where there should only be one. A-Are we connected, like she said?"

"You carry but one piece of my soul," Sauron said. "It is now intertwined with your own. That piece was tied to the chalice, one of my earlier experiments. The form you see now is the part that resided in Dol Guldur as the Necromancer, before I was banished by the Elf-Witch. And the third piece…" The tendrils of darkness curled and twisted faster. "My _ring_. My greatest creation. If the halfling is here in Mordor, then I _will_ have it."

His voice had slipped from smooth to something rougher and darker. Léonere shivered. He pushed himself to his feet, wondering if he should wait to be killed, make for the stairs on his right, or make for the ledge on his left.

"Oh, I'm not done with you just yet." Sauron drifted closer. Léonere moved back. "The portal has been disrupted, and I fear the gap will not be big enough for him to cross through."

"Who?" he asked, the steadiness of his voice surprising him. "I already know you're a liar, so there's no point in withholding the truth from me any longer.

Sauron hissed out a laugh. "Well, now. It seems you've finally—what is it you humans say? Grown a pair." He surged closer, so that Léonere could feel the brush of darkness against the bruises forming on his face. "My master, the First Dark Lord, has been trapped in the Void between worlds for far too long. Upon his release, he will raze all the kingdoms of Middle Earth to the ground, and from the ashes we will build a new empire."

Morgoth. The only evil being in existence more powerful than Sauron. Léonere took another step backwards, finding it hard to breathe. "I-I won't—"

"You won't help me?" The smooth mockery that had been so characteristic of Annatar disappeared from his voice. Sauron spoke in a rough, dark tone that brooked no argument. "You don't have a choice. Not even death allow your escape. Sooner or later, you will understand: that portal is going to open, and you have no choice in the matter. You have no choice but to _submit_."

* * *

Holly was terrified that her knees were going to buckle.

She was standing on a ledge using little more than her toes, with her hands gripping an even smaller ledge to keep her balance. It had only been a few minutes, but her limbs were already shaking with effort, and her fingers and toes ached.

After Léonere had thrown her over the edge, she had experienced a sickening moment of freefall before she had knocked against the jagged rock wall below the tower. After a painful minute of scratching and bumping against the rock, she'd managed to slow herself enough to find purchase on the wall.

And now she was stuck, moments away from falling to her death.

Holly hissed out a curse, glancing back up at the tower. She knew Viriel had to be in a dreadful amount of pain, if she wasn't dead already. Even if it was too late to save her, she still had Thorin and Bilbo to think about. She could not allow Sauron or Léonere to put them in more danger than they already were.

With one shaking hand, she reached out for a jagged piece of rock jutting out of the cliffside. Her fingers closed around the rough surface, and she tried to pull herself up. She looked down to try and find a foothold, and the rock crumbled beneath her fingers.

She cried out as her right arm and leg lost their grip and threw her off balance. The dry plains of Mordor stretched out far below. Holly swung her body back towards the cliff and scrambled to regain her hold, ignoring the twinge in her left shoulder. After a moment, the world stopped spinning and she pressed her forehead against the rock, biting back a sob.

She was too weak to climb back up. The only thing left for her to do was wait until her arms and legs gave out and she plummeted to her death.

 _Giving up so soon?_

Holly closed her eyes, her breath leaving her body in a shaky sigh. "Not you. Not now."

 _You know that doesn't work with me. 'Go away' isn't how you got rid of me last time—or have you forgotten already?_

She could hear the scrape of Smaug's claws as he scaled the wall below her. If he reached her, she knew she would fall. With a groan of effort, she reached up with her left hand, found another foothold for her right foot, and pulled herself up. This position was even more precarious than the last, but just a few feet above she could see a decent-sized ledge where she would be able to rest for a moment. She just had to push herself a little more.

The next ascent she made was twice as hard as the last. Holly grit her teeth as her muscles protested violently. She was shaking so hard it was nearly impossible to move her body the way she wanted.

 _Time is running out…_

"I'm going, dammit." Holly grit her teeth and pulled herself up another few inches. "I'm going to make it."

A noise like a violent gust of wind startled her. She looked up in time to see a dark shape move away from the tower and towards the mountain.

 _Bilbo_. Something must have happened with the ring—what else could have called Sauron away from the portal?

Holly cursed and pushed herself to climb faster. She wouldn't be able to reach him before Sauron did, but she had to know if her friends were alive. She wouldn't rest until she knew for certain.

* * *

The tunnel was stuffy and cramped, and with every step they took, the temperature rose a little more. Bilbo tugged on the collar of his shirt, which was sticky with sweat on the inside and coated with ash on the outside.

"I think I'd like a bath after this is all over," he said. It was strange to be making small talk in the tunnels below a deadly volcano, but it was getting hard to breathe in the cramped space and he needed to break the silence.

Thorin turned around to glance at him. A faint smile graced his lips. "You look like you could use one."

"You're one to talk. You look like a ghost. A very dusty ghost." He reached up and brushed some of the ash from the back of Thorin's coat.

Thorin reached back and held out his hand. Bilbo took it, grateful for the physical contact. The tunnel had grown too narrow for them to walk side by side, but Bilbo still found himself wanting to be close to Thorin. Perhaps he felt the same.

After a few minutes, Thorin stopped abruptly, causing Bilbo to nearly run into him. "What is it?" He tried to peer around his shoulder, but all he could see was a dim red light.

"Not sure. Stay on your guard." Thorin slipped his hand from Bilbo's and placed it on his sword.

They advanced quietly, and Bilbo found it harder to breathe as the air grew hotter and more oppressive. When the end of the tunnel finally came into sight, he realized why.

The tunnel opened up into a large cavern. The rock walls glowed red-orange, lit from below, and the air shimmered with the sheer heat radiating from the substance below. The floor of the cavern was completely obscured by a thick, bright orange liquid with patches of brown that sank and rose in a mesmerizing pattern.

"This is it," Thorin said.

Bilbo froze. They were inside the volcano now. The end of their journey, the reason why they had run and fought and bled, was here.

Terror and doubt crawled down his throat, oppressive as the heat from the sea of fire down below. A tiny voice in the back of his head was screaming at him to turn back. "I-I don't…"

"Bilbo." Thorin placed one hand on the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm here. I'll be right here."

He placed both hands on either side of Thorin's face, trying to ground himself in the dwarf's solid presence. "I-If I try to run, you have to stop me, all right?"

"I won't have to." Thorin drew back just enough so that Bilbo could see the warm, reassuring smile on his face. "You're strong. You won't need me."

He nodded, anxiety buzzing in his chest, and turned back to the pool of molten rock. The tunnel dropped straight down into the fire. Bilbo walked forward until his feet were brushing the edge of the precipice. The heat was almost unbearable, worse than leaning his face into an open oven.

Despite the sweltering atmosphere, the ring was cool when he slipped it from his pocket. Bilbo held it out in his palm, feeling the burning waves from below blister the back of his hand. All he had to do was tilt it to the side and let the ring slip into the fire.

 _NO!_

He faltered, and drew the ring back to his chest. If he destroyed it, he would be destroying himself. The ring would cause him to tumble over the edge with it. His heart beat madly as he imagined the incredible pain of sinking into that pool of fire, how the liquid would crawl up his arms and legs, burning his skin to ash, how it wouldn't let him die until it reached his throat and suffocated him.

A desperate shriek reverberated throughout the cavern, and Bilbo realized it was coming from the tunnel. He turned around and froze at the sight of a being made entirely of shadows hurtling down the shaft towards them, tendrils of pure darkness sliding against the walls and reaching out for him.

Thorin stepped between Bilbo and the creature, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll take care of it. Focus on the ring."

 _Don't worry, indeed. You're both going to die anyway._

Bilbo let out a shuddering breath and turned back to the fire. He couldn't let Thorin die. If he lost the ring to this creature, Thorin and Holly and Víriel and all the rest of his friends would never be safe. Even if it meant falling into the fire, he would save them.

He stretched out his arm, tilted his hand, and released the ring.

The creature let out another unearthly shriek, this one so close it sent shivers down his spine. Bilbo turned to see that it was nearly upon them, the darkness now cutting in shafts through the red-orange glow in the cavern.

Thorin, standing ready, swung his sword as it reached them, but the darkness vanished before his blade could even pass through.

Silence fell over the cavern, deafening and smothering like the heat.

Thorin lowered his sword and turned around, searching Bilbo's face. "You did it."

He nodded, his throat tight.

His face broke into a grin, and he clasped Bilbo's shoulder with his free hand. "I knew you could." His expression softened and he said, "We can go home now."

"Yes," Bilbo said with a smile that didn't feel quite genuine. "Let's go—"

A deafening explosion rocked the cavern, causing a wave of heat so intense to wash over them that Bilbo wondered for a moment if he hadn't caught on fire. Chunks of rock rained down from the ceiling, splashing into the pool and sending up droplets of liquid fire.

Thorin grabbed him and pulled him back into the relative safety of their tunnel.

A hissing noise sounded throughout the cavern, and Bilbo noticed that the substance in the cavern was splashing against the rock walls.

And then, without warning, the fire began to rise.

* * *

Holly didn't think she was going to make it.

It was ironic, really—the edge of the tower was less than a foot away from her fingertips. How humiliating it would be to have spent all her energy climbing a cliff face and then fall at the very end.

Humiliating or not, she lacked the strength to go any further. It was all she could do to cling to the rocks and try to keep her limbs from shaking too much.

"Holly."

She looked up to see a familiar, bloodied face staring down at her. Léonere was leaning over the edge of the tower, one hand stretched out towards her. "I-I thought you were dead."

She didn't have the energy to glare at him. "I'm not an easy person to kill."

His hand faltered for a moment. "You're not going to pull me over the edge, are you?"

Holly scoffed. "Please." She'd meant to say it in a derisive tone, but it came out as more of a plea.

Léonere reached down and, with a great deal of effort, managed to pull her up and over the side of the tower.

She knelt, since her shaking legs would not have permitted her to stand, and took a couple of deep breaths, relishing in the feeling of solid ground beneath her.

Then she looked up and saw the body.

" _Víriel._ " She half-stumbled, half-dragged herself over to where she was lying, still and pale, on the floor of the tower. "No, no, no, please." Holly cupped her face in her hands, her breath faltering as she realized how cold her skin was. A trembling sob escaped her lips and she bowed her head. "Oh, Eru, no."

Blinking away a few tears, she opened her eyes and was startled to find a pair of green ones staring back at her. "Víriel, are you all right? W-What happened to you?"

"I don't know." Her voice was hoarse and unsteady. "It was so dark, and I couldn't breathe—" She broke off in a shuddering gasp, the fear in her eyes painfully familiar to Holly.

"Shh, it's all right." She smoothed her fingers through Víriel's hair, keeping her other hand on her cheek and wishing that warmth would return to it. "You're safe now. I'll keep you safe."

"I understand now, why you did what you did," Léonere said, making her look up. He was leaning against the wall of the tower, arms crossed.

"You don't understand anything." Holly knew she was being unfair, but that didn't change the fact that she was angry. She was angry that Léonere had opened a dangerous portal and played a part in Sauron's appearance, though she knew firsthand how it felt to make destructive decisions that were entirely out of her control. She was angry because she had found him at the top of the tower instead of Bilbo, though Léonere was hardly at fault for that either.

"I understand that you would do anything to save her," he nodded at Víriel, who had closed her eyes again, "which is why you attacked me. I understand that you couldn't kill me in cold blood, which is why you lied to make me fight back."

Holly let out a laugh that sounded cold and distant to her ears. "See, you still don't understand anything. I didn't lie."

Léonere was silent.

She watched him with wary eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, his expression unreadable. If he was angry enough to try and kill her again, she would not have the strength to stop him.

He let out a low groan, then fell to his knees with a gasp. Holly stared as he held one hand to his chest, breathing hard.

"I-It's him," Léonere said through gritted teeth. "Something's happened."

Hope spun through her chest so quickly she felt lightheaded. Perhaps Bilbo had succeeded in destroying the ring after all. Holly pushed herself to her feet, ignoring Léonere as he collapsed to the ground, and stumbled over to the edge of the tower.

A low rumble sounded from the direction of the mountain. Just as Holly was about to dismiss it as a tremor of thunder, the earth gave another growl.

Liquid fire exploded from the peak of the volcano, spilling out over the sides at a terrifying speed. It raced down in glowing orange lines, burning everything in its path.

Holly barely registered the impact of her knees hitting the ground as she stared at the fire running like blood from an open wound.

All at once, she could see Bilbo, surrounded by black-cloaked figures and seconds from death—Thorin, his face pale as he lay in a pool of his own blood—the both of them hand in hand, walking along the road—

Hot tears ran down her face in a mocking reflection of the liquid death running in streams over the dry rock. It was over, truly—the ring had been destroyed, but so had the people she cared for most.

Holly sank to the ground, curling in on herself like a leaf in an open fireplace, and let the flame of grief consume her.

 **That was the first mage vs mage fight I've ever written. They're not normally that messy, but Holly likes to fight dirty. I would also like to promise that this is the last time Holly will almost fall to her death. It was important to me to show her climbing back up, as a way of showing her capability to recover from the "falls" she goes through (Part 1 of a healing process that will conclude in the epilogue) but I won't get too much into analysis right now. And as someone who has done rock climbing before, that shit is hard.**

 **Poor Leonere is just trying to do his best :( He'll get a redemption (of sorts) next chapter.**

 **I also hate myself for refusing to use the word "lava" in this chapter and the next, because I thought it was slightly anachronistic (I know this is a fantasy story, but I like to make things hard for myself). So I had to come up with various descriptions of lava without saying the word, which was...frustrating.**

 **Speaking of lava, and the ring, and Sauron: Bye Felicia! I know Sauron didn't get that big of an appearance (unless you count the Annatar stuff) but this fic isn't about him anyway. If it was I would have titled it Lord of...something.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think. I'd really appreciate it.**


	28. His Choice

**Chapter 28: His Choice**

Holly pressed her fingers against the wound in her chest in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. While flakes drifted down from the pale sky. She let them fall on her face, her chest, her rapidly numbing fingers.

The snow next to her head crunched under the weight of a boot, and a familiar face leaned over her. The dozen wounds in his chest were still dripping red, and she could hear each drop hiss as it spattered against the snow.

"Here we are again." Damon knelt down. "And I didn't even have to do anything this time—you've made quite a mess of things on your own."

Her body was weighed down with pain and exhaustion, and she could do nothing more than glare at him. "Well, I didn't drive a knife into my _own_ chest, did I?"

"Didn't you? You can't blame the voices in your head for everything, you know."

Holly drew in a rattling breath, pain gripping her chest like a vice. She was trembling with fear and cold. "Did I get you in the heart?"

Damon looked down at his mangled torso. "No, I don't think so. But I still died. Blood loss tends to do that, you know."

She ignored him. Gritting her teeth against the agony in her body, Holly sat up and pushed herself to her feet. She turned to face him. He was still kneeling, looking up at her with dark eyes that were strangely blank, devoid of their characteristic malice.

Why was she still afraid of a dead man? She'd known it was illogical for years, but now, seeing him here with blood soaking his shirt and spattered on his face, the sheer insanity of it struck her like a blow to the face.

Damon wasn't going to leave her alone. In her grief, her despair, her fear, he was always standing at her shoulder. But she knew the man could bleed, that he could be struck down, and that made her the victor.

Holly stood up straight, releasing her hold on the wound that wasn't really there. "You _are_ dead. And I will keep killing you, over and over again, a hundred times if I have to. I will _never_ stop fighting you." Holly let out a shaky sigh that racked her whole body with shivers. "Because I'm still here. I survived you."

Damon collapsed at her feet, his blood staining the snow.

The chasm walls around her melted, as did the snow, and when her vision finally cleared, Holly was standing back in the tower of Barad-dûr, facing the volcano that was still bleeding fire.

She let out a ragged breath, struggling against the weight of grief that threatened to consume her as she thought once again of what she had lost to the inferno.

A few feet away, Víriel was still lying on the ground. Some of the color had returned to her face, but she still looked exhausted and drawn. Léonere was leaning against the tower wall, his head bowed low. Holly couldn't tell if he was conscious or not.

She staggered her way over to Víriel and knelt beside her. Her pulse was steady, but she didn't react when Holly checked it.

"So you've got imaginary friends, too." Léonere had lifted his head and was looking at her with bloodshot eyes. His face was streaked with sweat and his nose was swollen from the rock she'd dropped onto it.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him, not having the energy to give him a full glare.

"Sauron is...gone," Léonere said. "I don't know how, or why, but I can feel it."

"I know," Holly said with a heavy-eyed glance towards the glowing peak in the distance. She turned back to him. "You can feel it now, but that might change later. The portion of his soul attached to yours might have survived."

He nodded, the surprise in his eyes fading to resignation more quickly than she'd expected.

"In order to destroy that portion, you're going to have to—"

"I know."

Holly lowered her gaze to her sore, bleeding fingers, knowing what she was about to say was nothing more than an excuse but feeling the need to say it anyway. "You remember the night the orcs attacked us. It was dark, and I was terrified out of my mind. I thought he was an orc. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late."

Léonere was silent. There was nothing for him to say, really.

Holly started at the sensation of cold fingers on her arm, but it was only Víriel. She helped her sit up, watching her blink slowly and look around with unfocused eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Sick," she rasped. "I-I don't know. It's hard to…" Víriel winced and closed her eyes.

Sauron could have done anything to her. Holly took a deep breath, holding one clenched fist in her lap. She had to stay calm if she was to take care of her friend. "Do you know where you are?"

Víriel kept her eyes closed. "Mordor."

"Do you know who you are?"

"M-My name is Víriel. I am a ranger of Ithilien, and it is my duty to protect the people of Gondor from any threats they may face." As she said this, some of the steadiness returned to her voice.

"And you know who I am?"

"Some bossy mage who expects me to answer all these questions with a pounding headache."

Holly allowed herself a shaky smile at that and reached up to check her temperature. "Headache. I can work with that. You're most likely dehydrated." Hopefully that was the only ailment from which she was suffering. "And I don't think being here much longer will help. Can you walk?"

Víriel only grunted at that, but she allowed Holly to sling one arm around her shoulders and try to pull her to her feet. She wasn't much of a support structure, being shorter than Víriel and just as exhausted. But in the end, the both of them were standing.

Holly kept one arm around Víriel's waist as she turned to Léonere. "Are you coming?"

He looked up, his eyes widening a fraction. "We won't make it out alive."

She shook her head and turned away. The two of them made for the stairs at a painfully slow pace.

"Are you feeling any better?" Holly asked as they began their descent.

"Better than when you asked me two minutes ago? Not really."

"Right." Before she could stop herself, Holly asked, "Are you angry with me?"

"No. Why would I be?"

Holly frowned at the stone beneath her feet. "I made a mistake. It was because of me that we went to the tower instead of the volcano. You were attacked because I led us right into a trap."

"There's no way you could have known about that."

She shook her head. "It's my fault we wasted time going in the wrong direction. If we'd managed to find Bilbo in time, perhaps he and Thorin would still be—" Her voice cracked.

Víriel stopped and sat down on the stairs, pulling Holly down next to her. Holly put her face in her hands, breathing in the scent of ash and blood. Even when Víriel reached over and pulled her close, she kept her face hidden as sobs racked her exhausted body.

They stayed like that for a while, in the darkness of the stairwell, simply trying to remember how to breathe.

* * *

Holly wasn't sure how they made it as far as they did. Although Víriel seemed to regain a bit of life with every step they took across the barren plains of Mordor, they were both almost completely drained to begin with, and had neither the means nor the time to regain their strength.

More portals crackled and disappeared in the distance, and Holly saw strange shapes slip through into their world. Thankfully, none of them drew close enough to put them at risk of being attacked.

The temperature began to rise as they drew closer to the mountain. Once they had scaled a steep slope and gained a clearer view of the land, Holly realized why.

The fiery liquid from the mountain had spread over a large swath of the area. It ran in streams through crevices and valleys of jagged rock, and she knew it would be unwise to try and swim through. Even from here, she could feel the heat on her face, and the air above the streams was hazy and distorted.

"We'll have to go around," Víriel said, and Holly suppressed a groan.

"We could try to find a way through." She pointed. "See that ridge there? It's high enough to keep above the fire, and it might cut all the way through this mess. Could save us a couple hours of travel."

Víriel sighed, her eyes scanning the ridge. She turned back to Holly. "Do you want to risk it?"

"I'm tired of being here." She started walking again. They would have a clear path to the ridge from where they were, though that wouldn't last long—the bright orange streams were slowly but surely encroaching upon that space.

Holly glanced up at her companion. "I know you're exhausted, but are you feeling any other, um, side effects? Nausea, hallucinations, psychotic urges to exterminate the Free Peoples of Middle Earth?"

Víriel gave her a tired smile. "Just the first one. I…" Her smile wavered. "Let's just focus on getting out of here."

They climbed up the ridge without incident and took another short rest. The air had grown almost unbearably hot, and Holly found her head drooping as they continued along in silence. It was all she could do to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and hope she didn't miss a step and plummet into the liquid death below.

It wasn't for her sake that she watched her step. She needed to make sure Víriel made it home safely—it was the least she could do after all the ranger had given her.

"Oh, Eru. Holly." When she didn't respond, Víriel grabbed her arm. "Holly, look! Do you see that?"

She turned towards where Víriel was pointing. All she could see was a lake of orange heat and dark rocks jutting from the liquid at various intervals. "What am I looking at?"

Víriel bent down so they had the same perspective and pointed again. "There, on that rock. Do you see that?"

Holly shook her head. "The heat's making you delirious. W-We have to go." She turned to walk away, but Víriel kept her hold on her arm.

"I'm not seeing things. Look at the rock next to the two boulders and tell me that doesn't look like a couple of people standing there."

A bitter taste that had nothing to do with ash swelled on her tongue—there was no point in getting her hopes up. But Holly looked anyway, and when she saw a distinct movement that had nothing to do with the distortion from the heat, her eyes widened.

It was as though a cold bucket of water had been thrown on her. "I-It's them. They survived." She made a jagged noise that was not quite a laugh and stood up straighter, scanning the terrain. "We need to get to them."

"Right, but we'll need to make a pla—Holly, wait!"

But she was already on the move, sprinting down the ridge and sliding down the rock face to a piece of land that was only partially submerged. If she climbed up the rock nearby, jumped to a ledge not far from there, and managed to navigate the uneven cluster of rocks next to it, she would be within a stone's throw of her friends.

"Holly, you're going to get yourself killed!" Víriel slid down the ridge after her, but Holly merely beckoned for her to follow and pulled herself up and onto a small shelf jutting out of the rock face.

She pushed herself to go as quickly as she could, exhaustion nearly forgotten in her frantic attempts to reach them.

Víriel was right behind her when she finally pushed herself up onto a group of relatively stable rocks about twenty feet away from the two figures stranded on the rock.

Holly took a deep breath, feeling hot air and hope swirl together in her lungs, and shouted "Bilbo! Thorin!"

They turned around to face her, wearing twin expressions of shock. They appeared to be unharmed, and that revelation almost brought her to her knees.

"We'll get you out of there," Holly called to them, and scanned the area, searching for some piece of land that they could use to get to safety.

"There's nothing there," Víriel said from behind her. "They won't be able to get across."

"We can't just leave them there."

"I know. I'm saying we're going to have to make a path for them." Víriel met her gaze and held it. "One more spell. Can you do it?"

Holly turned back to her stranded friends, the answer already on her tongue. She could do it, because she had no other choice.

She knelt down and focused on the earth beneath her feet, the solid, dry rock. She visualized a bridge extending, filling the gap between them. Her breathing slowed, and she raised one hand.

" _Cae perien rammas eria_."

A wall of earth rose from the fire, creating a narrow passage from Bilbo and Thorin's rock to the cluster of boulders where Holly and Víriel stood. Holly winced as a sharp pain lanced through her head.

"Careful, it's still hot!" Víriel shouted as Thorin tried to step on the bridge, which was still smoking. She scoffed and lowered her voice. "Like children trying to eat something straight out of the oven." She knelt down and put one hand on Holly's shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"That's it for my magic today." Holly wiped a bit of blood from her nose, blinking against the stabbing pain in her head. "I am _definitely_ going to feel this tomorrow morning."

"Hopefully not as bad as a hangover, huh?"

"Shut up."

Víriel helped her to her feet and they waited in breathless silence until the bridge was deemed safe enough for Bilbo and Thorin to cross. They were both covered in ash and sweat, but they were _alive_ , and close enough for her to touch.

Bilbo looked into her eyes, and the uncertainty in his gaze brought back the memory of their last encounter with a jolt. She had a couple things to say to him about running off into Mordor alone, but at the moment she was simply glad to see him alive.

"Your shoulder…"

"Your feet," Holly said at the same time. She gestured awkwardly at the ground behind him. "Because you don't have shoes, and the ground is hot…"

They both reached out for each other in the same instant, and Holly squeezed her eyes shut as she embraced him. Her family was back together again, and despite the heat and her exhaustion and the death that surrounded them on all sides, she felt her heart lift. She looked up at smiled at Thorin, who returned the gesture.

"The ring," Holly said when the pulled apart. "Did you destroy it?"

Bilbo nodded, a strange weight in his eyes that she would have to ask him about later.

"Then our work here is done." Víriel spread her arms. "And this rock is getting a little crowded with the four of us, so…"

"We've tarried long enough in this foul place," Thorin said in the tone that made them all straighten up and listen. "Let's get out of here."

They traversed the rocks back to the ridge without incident, where they continued on with Thorin in the lead. Holly was just beginning to think that they would make it out without any more problems when Bilbo stopped in front of her, causing her to run into him.

"What is it?"

He pointed down at the swirling lake of fire. "I saw something moving down there."

"Some fish, perhaps?" Víriel said from where she was bringing up the rear.

As Holly scanned the glowing orange liquid, a movement near one of the rocks caught her eye. A jagged, metallic tail flashed above the surface for a moment before disappearing once more. "I saw it that time." She turned to Víriel, who furrowed her brow upon sensing the anxiety in her voice. "One of the creatures that came from the portal below the tower."

"Hold on, portal?" Bilbo frowned up at her. "You mean those flashing things?"

"If they're dangerous, then we should keep moving." Thorin gestured for them to start walking again. "The sooner we leave Mordor, the better."

"We met an old friend at the tower ruins not far from here," Víriel said. While they walked, she explained their encounter with Léonere and Sauron, and Holly filled in some of the more complicated magical details.

"The portal is still open," Holly said once they had finished their explanation. "I don't know if it will stay that way, but if it does, nothing good will come from it. Different worlds aren't meant to collide."

As if to punctuate her point, a shrieking noise sounded from behind them. They turned to see a portal flash into existence, and before it closed a split second later, one of the strange metallic creatures slipped through.

It was almost feline in form, save for its jagged tail and featureless head that tapered into a sharp point. Despite its lack of eyes, nose, or ears, it seemed to be aware of their presence, and pointed its head directly at them.

"Run!"

They sprinted along the ridge, but they only had two legs where the creature had four. Just as it was about to overtake them, Víriel cried, "Duck!" and pushed Holly down. Bilbo followed suit, and the creature leapt over them. Thorin spun around and sliced into the creature's neck with his sword. The blade left a sizable dent in its body, and the impact knocked it to the side and into the fire below.

"Keep moving, come on!" Thorin pulled Bilbo to his feet and they hurried onwards.

The ridge widened into a plateau-like area. They stood in the center and stopped to catch their breath. Holly put her hands on her knees and tried to keep her legs from shaking too much. Running even that short distance had reminded her that she had already come close to her limit several times that day.

Before they could fully gather themselves, another shrieking noise sounded and a different creature drifted through the portal. This one seemed to be made of shadows, similar to Sauron's form, but attached to the shadows was a bleached white form that rather resembled a skull, with two glowing red lights in the eye sockets.

"Holly." Thorin nodded to her. "Can you use your magic?"

"No," she said, cursing herself even as the words left her mouth. "I-I don't have the energy for another spell. I'm sorry." Just by looking at the creature, she knew swords would do no harm to it. She was the only one who could defend the group, and she had doomed them all with her weakness.

Bilbo snatched up a rock from the ground and hurled it at the ghost-like creature. The rock struck the center of its skull, leaving a sizeable crack. The ghost paused in its advances and let out a noise akin to a sigh.

Before they even begin to formulate a plan, another shrieking noise sounded from the opposite end of the plateau. More creatures appeared from other portals or crawled up the sides of the rock face—a bird-like creature with huge red eyes, a pile of slime that made the rock beneath it steam and hiss, a giant insect with more stingers on its body than she could count.

The four of them formed a tight circle as the creatures converged on them. Bilbo and Thorin drew their swords, Víriel picked up another loose rock, and Holly clenched her fists and tried not to panic.

"This is usually the part where the giant eagles come and save us," Bilbo said.

"The ones in the Misty Mountains?" Víriel asked.

"They saved us all twice a couple years ago."

"I think you're taking them for granted. They almost never fly this far south. Sorry."

The monster nearest to them—a large reptile with a glowing tail and head—lunged at Víriel. She raised the stone in her fist, but before she could let it fly a streak of lightning sliced through its side, severing the beast in half.

Léonere stood at the edge of the plateau, one hand still outstretched.

Thorin and Bilbo leapt into action, cutting down the tangible creatures that came too close to their group. Léonere finished off the ones that could not be touched by steel. Víriel grabbed Holly's shoulder and pulled her down as the slime creature launched a steaming portion of its body at their heads.

The fight was over in minutes, with the creatures either dead or knocked into the burning liquid below. The dust had barely settled before Léonere approached their group.

"I know how to close the portals," he said. "And I need to do it quickly. Sauron explained it to me—those portals lead to the Void. The creatures here must be manifestations of the malice that has festered there for ages. And one being is trying to make its way into this world—an evil far greater than Sauron."

Víriel shook her head. "You can't be serious."

Holly suppressed a shiver. Morgoth's legacy of darkness lived on in the bloodthirsty creatures that terrorized Middle Earth, orcs being on the kinder end of that group. Obviously he'd been working on some new creations during his exile in the Void.

Thorin shook some blood from his sword and stepped forward. "What do you need from us?"

Léonere looked around. They were alone for now, but that could change in an instant. "Cover me while I take control of the portal. I can't fight off creatures and work on it at the same time."

Thorin and Bilbo went to stand by Léonere as he closed his eyes and held out both palms. Holly studied him with a furrowed brow. He hadn't been able to close it magically before, and she wasn't sure how he was going to do it this time.

"Do you know what he's going to do?" Víriel asked her.

Holly shook her head.

With a great _crack_ and a flash of light, a large portal appeared before Léonere's outstretched hands, hovering over the fire below. More of the metallic creatures from before crawled over the edges of the plateau, and Bilbo and Thorin fought them off.

Holly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I can't just stand here and do nothing. I-I don't like what he's doing."

Víriel's head turned sharply. "Do you think he means to betray us?"

"I don't know." Holly took a few steps forward, watching the lines of tension in Léonere's back grow. Before she could get very far, though, a wave of cold and dread stopped her in her tracks.

Someone was looking back at them from inside the portal. His eyes were deep black, so dark they blended in with the inky backdrop, but Holly could still sense him staring out at her. Bilbo and Thorin froze as well, their weapons faltering. Léonere was shaking, his breath coming in heaves as he poured all of his energy into the portal.

After a moment, he dropped his arms, shoulders sagging. The dark presence disappeared from the portal, but it remained open.

"Léonere." Holly walked over and grabbed his arm. "What happened? Can you not close it?"

He was still breathing heavily, his eyes focused on a random point in the distance. "I'll close it. I've bought us some time. I-I just need a minute." With that, he walked off the plateau and onto the ridge, carrying himself with an odd sort of calmness.

Thorin paused in checking Bilbo for injuries. "Where is he going?"

"Stay here," Holly told her group, and made to follow him. She had seen that posture before.

Léonere had stopped a about thirty feet away, and was staring into the fire below with a disconcerting intensity.

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Holly asked.

Léonere looked up at her. "The portal won't close because there's nothing corporeal _to_ close. If it has a physical anchor, though, and that anchor is destroyed, then..." After a moment, he added, "We don't have time to look for another way."

"You're right." Holly stared at the ground, a list of phrases running through her head—apologies, assurances, questions with answers that didn't really matter. "And I was wrong. You do understand me. And I think I might understand a small fraction of you." She lifted her eyes. "What you're about to do."

"The fear." His voice was ragged.

"Inevitable."

"All right." Léonere turned back to the glowing death waiting below and swallowed hard.

"I hope...I hope you see him again, wherever you end up after this."

The clouds overhead were dark, but a small glow of light appeared on his face. He stared downwards, and the faintest of grins passed over his lips.

Holly watched him fall, then turned and walked back to rejoin her friends.

 **I felt like Holly needed some sort of closure when it came to Damon. I wanted to make it clear, though, that PTSD is an ongoing battle, not something that can be "cured," so I hope that was clear.**

 **Also, as a continuation of my lava comment last chapter...turns out Tolkien never uses the world "volcano" to describe Mount Doom, which means I have to come up with another way to refer to it (without saying Mount Doom because that's dumb). I hate myself.**

 **And yay the gang is back together once again! It's crazy how it's been six chapters since they were all together. I didn't realize I'd kept them apart for so long, but chronologically it's only been two or three days.**

 **The weird creatures mentioned in this chapter are all based off of Pokemon. If you can guess which ones, I'll give you a virtual high five.**

 **And finally...poor Leonere :( I wasn't really sure what to do with his character at the end, but I think this was the best route in terms of character development, plot, all that good stuff. Not really sure about the pacing surrounding that last part, but it might just be me.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you have something you want to say about this chapter, feel free to leave a comment. I'd really appreciate it.**


	29. The Fight

**Chapter 29: The Fight**

It was nearly three days after their escape that Thorin finally had a moment of quiet to himself. Their return to Osgiliath had been followed by a series of questionings from multiple rangers, and he'd lost track of the number of times he'd had to recount not only what had taken place in Mordor, but the events that had preceded it. Thorin had also been visited by another raven, who carried news of a small force from Erebor that was riding south to meet them.

Holly and Víriel had been bedridden for most of that time, having pushed themselves to the limit physically (and in Holly's case, magically) during their time in Mordor. Osgiliath had been launched into a flurry of activity as the rangers had driven back the orcs from the eastern half of the city. They had pursued them all the way to the gates of Minas Morgul—or what was left of it. After Sauron's defeat, the fortress had crumbled completely and the forces within had been broken.

There was still the matter of the otherworldly monsters that were no doubt still lurking in Mordor, as well as rogue bands of orcs that had not fallen along with the Dark Lord. But Gondor had entered a new era—few dared yet to call it peace—and that was not a matter to be taken lightly.

The sun was setting, and the activity in the city had fallen into a lull, so Thorin set out to get some fresh air and gather his thoughts. He paced the streets for a while, eventually finding himself on a walkway that overlooked the river.

He realized he was not alone. Holly was at the other end of the walkway, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her eyes closed. Upon hearing his footsteps, she turned towards him and stood up.

"I did not mean to disturb you," Thorin said, approaching her.

"It's all right." Holly brushed herself off. "I was just sorting myself out, realigning everything so I can use magic again. But I'm finished."

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, I can stand on my own now. And my head doesn't feel like it was smashed by a battering ram." She sighed as though realizing he wasn't just inquiring after her physical health. Her gaze drifted over to the river and she stared at the water, though he could tell she wasn't really seeing it. "I came to a realization while I was in Mordor. I-I'm not...better, and in fact I think some of the events I've experienced over these past few months might have made things worse. But I can fight it. I still have that."

"You're right." Thorin had been forced to come to terms with a similar realization earlier in his life, and he was glad Holly had found it as well. "It takes time, and it won't be easy. But you're strong." He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, making her smile.

"Ready to return to Erebor?"

"It's been too long." Every time Thorin thought of seeing his home again, he felt his heart lift. "And you are welcome to stay there, if that is what you wish."

"I might. For a few days." Her smile faded. "You know, we...we never found a cure for you. For the dragon sickness."

Ever since they had left the tomb empty-handed, that fact had weighed on Thorin's mind. But in the couple of months since then, he had come to terms with the fact that there most likely wasn't a cure. Some sicknesses were life-long. "With or without a cure, I still have a duty to return to my people and lead them. It's like you said—I can fight it. And I will continue to do so, for as long as I need to."

Holly crossed her arms, her eyes weighted with guilt. "You shouldn't have to."

"I know. But I will. I can." He looked up. "I resisted the ring." She looked up, her eyes wide, and he told her of the incident under the volcano when Bilbo had held the ring out to him.

A small amount of hope joined the awe in her gaze. "That's a good sign." She straightened, and the iron in her bones shone clear through the determination in her gaze. "But should you ever need help with anything, whether it be the sickness or something else, I'll do whatever I can. You have my word."

* * *

Bilbo had been hoping that a bath would help put him to rights. And he had felt a bit better after all the ash and dirt and sweat had been scrubbed off his skin. He'd come out of the whole ordeal in Mordor fairly unscathed, with just a few bruises and minor burns that would heal in time.

He felt clean on the outside, but on the inside he felt rather...hollowed out. The moment he had dropped the ring into the fire, he had been overwhelmed with regret and a strange sense of loss. But all of that had been forgotten during their frantic escape from the mountain and their subsequent battle with the monsters.

Now that things had settled down, that feeling had returned with a vengeance. It was almost a form of grief, though Bilbo knew it was utterly ridiculous to grieve over an object, especially one imbued with evil. Yet he couldn't help feel as though a part of himself had been taken away.

The door opened, and he turned around from where he was sitting on the bed to see Thorin enter the room. Bilbo tried to compose himself and smiled as Thorin went to sit beside him. "How was your walk?"

"Good." He reached up and placed one hand on his back. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Really." That was a question he'd been asked several times already, by multiple people and in different variations, and he was getting a bit tired of answering it. "So, we're leaving tomorrow, then?"

Thorin nodded. "Holly says she's well enough to travel, and we'll need to head out before the snows get too bad."

"Good. That's great," Bilbo said, one hand resting against his pocket. It was an automatic movement and he barely paid it any mind, but once he registered that it was empty, he stiffened. He checked again—still empty—and panic flooded through him. He stood up, felt through both pockets, looked around the bed and the floor, but there was nothing there.

"Bilbo." Thorin's hand on his arm brought him back to reality. He was staring at him, eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

"I-I was…" _It's gone._ Bilbo let out a short breath, annoyed with himself, and sat back down. He really needed to stop doing that. "I don't know."

"If you keep this all bottled up, it's going to hurt you." Thorin reached over and squeezed his hand. "You can talk to me, or to Holly, and we'll listen. It doesn't have to be all at once, but you won't heal from this until you acknowledge that it happened."

Bilbo lowered his head, tightening his grip on Thorin's hand. He'd said a similar thing to Holly in the weeks after the battle. And he knew now why it had been impossible for her to talk about what had happened.

"I feel as though I've lost something," he managed, speaking in a low voice. "And I don't understand why."

"What did you lose?"

"M-My…" Bilbo shook his head. "You know. The ring. I lost it, and I can't get it back, and I don't understand why that bothers me so much." His voice started to waver, so he stopped talking.

"There's no shame in that, Bilbo. The ring had a hold on your mind, and you couldn't have stopped that."

More memories, more worries and floods of regret were spilling into the front of his mind now, as though a dam had broken. "I almost hurt her. Holly, she tried to take the ring from me, back at the river, and I drew my sword on her. In that moment, for a split second, I wanted to kill her. There's n-no excuse for that." Bilbo reached up to hastily wipe away a tear as it slipped down his cheek.

"I know," Thorin said, removing his hand from Bilbo's and wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

And Bilbo realized that Thorin _did_ know—perhaps he knew even better than he did what it felt like to nearly hurt someone he cared about. For some reason, this caused even more tears to fall, and Thorin pulled him close.

Bilbo leaned into his chest and let a small amount of the pain pressing against the inside of his chest leak out. He wasn't all right—he wasn't even close to being done with the problems that had hounded him for the past two years.

But perhaps, one day in the future, he would be.

* * *

Holly ran her nail along the grain of the old wooden bench, idly tracing the worn grooves beneath her palm. She smiled to herself as her finger found a splintered piece near the edge. Though being trapped in an orc wagon and having to rip up part of the floor in order to escape was far from a pleasant memory, she would always remember Víriel with a smile—her determination, the strength of her arms, the speed with which she had fought off the group of orcs.

The door next to the bench opened, and her friend walked out into the sunlight. Her blonde hair glowed in the morning light, and the color had returned to her cheeks after a few days of rest. Besides a few nightmares, Víriel hadn't reported any other side-effects of her encounter with Sauron.

"How did it go?" Holly asked, making her turn.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were waiting for me. I thought you would have left by now."

She shrugged. "I wanted to make sure my ridiculous ventures didn't ruin your career as a ranger. Bilbo and Thorin are probably waiting at the bridge now, so you can come say goodbye to them if you'd like."

"I appreciate your concern." Víriel sat down next to her. "I'm allowed to keep my position as a ranger. No doubt they'll put a tighter leash on me for the next few years, though." Seeing the remorse in Holly's eyes, she added. "It could have been worse. Your sister put in a good word for me."

"She can be quite persuasive when she wants to." Holly and Myra had shared a formal but (somewhat) amicable farewell earlier that day. Considering the standard they'd set for parting, it was probably the closest they'd ever get to the loving goodbye sisters were supposed to have.

"So, I suppose it's time for me to…"

"Right." Holly had been dreading this moment, and therefore had avoided thinking about it. But it was inevitable—she had to see Thorin and Bilbo safely back to Erebor, and Víriel's duty lay in Ithilien. "I know I've said this a hundred times before, but thank you for everything. I never could have survived what I went through without you."

"You saved my life more than once as well."

"So do I still owe you that drink?"

Víriel laughed. "I'll call it even. For now." Tentatively, she reached over and laid her fingers over Holly's. "Come and visit me sometime?"

Holly shrugged, giving her a teasing smile. "Well, if I have a reason to be in the area, I'll certainly stop by."

Víriel lifted her head and glanced around the alley where they were sitting. It was empty but for the two of them.

Before Holly could ask what she was looking for, Víriel placed one hand on her cheek and leaned in. Her lips were soft, exactly how Holly had imagined they would be, and her touch was gentle. Holly leaned in to deepen the kiss, one hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. For a few blissful moments, she was drifting, weightless, and wanting _more_. They broke apart after a few seconds but stayed close, foreheads nearly touching, and when Víriel finally spoke, Holly could feel her breath ghosting over her lips.

"There's your reason."

* * *

They day was bright when they finally set out, and Holly was glad to leave the gray grimness of Osgiliath and the dark shadow of Mordor behind. They were planning on retracing their steps back up the Cair Andros, then to the southern borders of Mirkwood. A small force from Erebor was to meet them somewhere in Rhovanion and escort them the rest of the way to the mountain.

Holly glanced at her two friends as they walked side by side along the road. They were both weary and probably more than a little homesick, but for the first time since...she couldn't really remember when, they were all safe, together, and ready to resume their lives.

It was more than she could have hoped for a week ago.

A little ways down the road, they encountered someone quite unexpected.

Bilbo caught sight of the pointy hat making its way in their direction first. "Is that who I think it is?"

When Gandalf finally met them on the road, he seemed glad, but (understandably) confused to see them. "Now, here is a group I did not expect to see on the roads of Gondor." He glanced at each of them individually, as though trying to work out a reason why they would personally be in such a place.

Bilbo smiled. "It's good to see you, Gandalf. Though, admittedly, we did not expect to see you here, either."

"As a matter of fact, I was on my way to investigate a strange disturbance I felt in the lands to the east." Dark gray eyebrows dropped low as he surveyed their group again. "You three wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

They exchanged glances, silently debating on what to reveal, or where they should even start.

Finally, Holly turned to the wizard and took a deep breath. "Well, there's something you might want to know…"

 **I know this fic isn't as romance-heavy as Fëangren, but I felt that tonally it wouldn't work to have a bunch of fluffy romance. I was really more focused on developing deep emotional bonds between the characters that didn't necessarily have to do with romance/desire.**

 **Also, the thought of Gandalf showing up 15 minutes late with Starbucks is absolutely hilarious to me. When I realized I'd forgotten to write him into the plot, I decided to just put him at the end.**

 **The epilogue comes next, since I still have a couple more things to wrap up. Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with this story so far. Feel free to leave a comment about what you think, I'd really appreciate it. See you next time!**


	30. Four Months Later

**Four Months Later**

Holly drummed her fingertips on her knees, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on the stone beneath her feet. She could sense it every time one of the dwarves glanced at her, but she wasn't ready to meet their gaze and see just what they thought about her return to Erebor.

Bilbo sat down next to her, and she looked up, grateful for a friendly face. "Everyone's here, now." He reached over and squeezed her hand. "You don't have to do this."

"I do," she said, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. "It's the least of what I owe to them." She let go of his hand and stood up, facing the group before her and trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.

All thirteen of the dwarves had gathered into the room—including Dwalin and Nori, who had managed to escape the fire in the forest and return to the mountain months before. Thorin was there too, dressed once again in his royal attire, and when she glanced at him, he gave her a reassuring nod.

The last time the fifteen of them had been in the same space together had been nearly three years ago, atop a wall made of rubble and facing down an army of elves. It seemed as though a lifetime had passed since then.

Holly forced herself to look at each of their faces. Most of them were staring at her with varying degrees of apprehension, confusion, and sorrow.

"Right. Well, I apologize for taking time out of your day by calling you here. I'm sure you all have things you'd rather be doing at the moment. A-And I suppose I should also apologize for leaving after the battle, without telling anyone."

No one reacted, but they were all still listening to her, so Holly assumed they had followed her up to that point and decided to continue.

"The truth is, there were a number of factors and circumstances that led up to my disappearance. Voluntary disappearance, that is. And I know it all caused you some degree of pain, and I can't apologize enough for that. It was never my intention to hurt any of you. But g-given the fact that I did end up inflicting emotional damage, I feel obligated to make amends, in any way I can. So I'm going to tell you the truth about what happened to me and what I did."

She took another deep breath, one hand going to twist at the sleeve of her shirt.

"It all started with a dark mage named Damon."

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

"Quite sure." Holly glanced up at the mountain. From where she stood at Erebor's doorstep, the hulking mass seemed to stretch all the way to the sky. "I wouldn't hate living here, but it's not home for me. There's still so much I want to see in the world. And now I feel safe enough to explore it."

"You'll visit, though," Bilbo said, holding her gaze.

Holly smiled and nodded. "As often as is practical."

"And you'll write."

"You won't be able to write back."

"That doesn't matter." A tiny crease appeared between his brows. "I want to know that you're doing all right."

"I'm not going to…" Holly swallowed, hard. Of course Bilbo had every reason to be concerned. "I promise it's different this time. You'll see me again."

"I still want you to write. I'm sure whatever adventures you'll have out there will be far more interesting than what I'll be doing in the mountain."

Holly glanced over to where Thorin was approaching them and smiled. "I think you'll have plenty to keep you entertained."

"You have everything you need?" Thorin asked as he came to a halt next to Bilbo.

"More than enough," Holly said, shifting the pack on her shoulders. She'd been given new clothes and enough supplies to last her months, but more than that, she'd been gifted the forgiveness of her friends.

The dwarves had been understandably shocked when she'd finished her tale about the dragon and the dark mage and everything else that had happened in between. But after numerous questions (most of them asking for clarification regarding the magical aspects of the story) the dwarves had expressed their understanding and condolences. Before she'd had the chance to cry, she'd been pulled into a much-needed hug by Dori, which had quickly grown from accommodating two people to all fifteen.

"Oh," Bilbo said, bringing her back to the present. "I just remembered—I have something for you. I'll be right back." He turned and darted back into the mountain.

Holly turned to Thorin. "You didn't have to come see me off. I'm sure you must be incredibly busy."

"I owe you a proper farewell. You've saved my life and Bilbo's life more times than I can count, and I am indebted to you." He held up a hand when Holly opened her mouth to argue. "You are welcome in my kingdom at any time. You have my gratitude, and my friendship."

Holly stared at him, blinking hard. Before she could say anything, Thorin stepped forward and swept her into a hug.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, wondering at how things had changed between them since the last time they had stood face to face under the mountain. When they broke apart, she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "Take care of yourself, Thorin. And take care of Bilbo."

"I will. You look out for yourself as well, all right?"

Holly nodded. "What I said back at Osgiliath still stands. You ever need something, I'll help you."

Bilbo returned, a leather-bound book tucked under his arm. "Sorry about that. Here you are." He held it out to her.

She took it carefully, running her fingers reverently over the smooth red cover, then flipped it open to the first page. It was blank. "What is this?"

He blushed a little. "I haven't thought of a title yet. But this is my account of the quest."

Holly flipped through a few more of the pages. Rows of neat, round handwriting detailed familiar events: the party at Bag End, their encounter with the trolls, their stay at Rivendell. He'd even written down the conversation they'd had about the stars in the foothills of the Misty Mountains. She skimmed over a couple lines, curious as to how he remembered that incident. She frowned. "'Spectacularly ignorant?' Really?"

Bilbo laughed. "I was trying to be as accurate as possible."

He must have written the bulk of it after she'd gone missing. And it must have been incredibly painful, she realized, to write about someone he thought to be dead. "Did it help? Writing about what happened?"

"It did. And I think it might help you, too." He reached over and flipped to the back of the book, where there were several empty pages. "These last few pages are for you. I thought you should be the one to tell the second half of the tale. Everything that we just went through."

"You're...giving this to me?"

Bilbo smiled. "It's time you told your story."

"All right." Holly closed the book and held it to her chest. "I will. And I won't include any frivolous details or insult my friends while I'm at it."

Thorin grinned. "We look forward to reading it."

"I'll have it done by the time I come back. But until then…" Holly straightened, swallowing against the lump in her throat. She'd made up her mind to leave, but that didn't change the bitterness she felt at parting from her friends. "I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

Bilbo stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. All of you."

He released her and stepped back, and he and Thorin stood side by side as they bid her farewell. Holly finally forced herself to turn away and start walking along the road.

She didn't have a set destination in mind—she was more inclined to let the path take her somewhere new.

The river of time would sweep her down into unknown waters, but no matter how far she drifted, she had a home behind her, and a world of adventure laid out ahead.

 **THE END**

 **After almost four years, I finally finished this series. Combined it's the longest work I've ever done, and about four hundred pages total. I'm super grateful for everyone who has left a comment (even the mean ones), favorited, followed, and read along silently. I hope this story made some small impact on your life, or just provided some simple entertainment.**

 **I was a little disappointed with the lack of response this particular fic** **received** **, but I realize this is a bit of a niche story, and it's a sequel, so it was never going to** **receive as big of a response as Fëangren. And I want to emphasize that I am super grateful for the people who did leave some feedback.**

 **So this is probably the last we'll see of Holly and Co., unless someone has a oneshot/small idea they'd like to see me write. But don't worry; I've got a ton of new ideas for more fics. I'm probably going to publish a bunch of first chapters and whichever one people seem to like, I'll continue. So keep an eye out for those.**

 **Thanks as always, and I hope you will join me on whatever next adventure is coming up! :)**


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